Walpurgis Night
by SSJ-Alhazred
Summary: *Chapter 3... finally.* When Mesmero frees Apocalypse, can the X-Men survive their Walpurgis Night? Action, drama, romance, angst, mild slash, something for everyone.
1. Rise, Inferno

Disc: I don't own X-Men: Evolution, or anything else in this thing really, no profit is being made.

Now for some good ol' fashion notes.

This exists half because I wanted to do an Apocalypse fic and half because of a challenge. Figured I could kill two birds with one stone.

I won't do _that_ again, let me tell you.

Anyway. First, the Fanfic Association of the Internet rates this story "R" for swearing (I blame Mr. Sinister) and violence (I would still blame Mr. Sinister, but this one's more Apocalypse' fault.) Insane amounts of sappiness as the author has not one but _three _romances in this thing should also be expected.

Speaking of which, this 'fic contains that dreaded word, yes, Slash. No, the plot does NOT revolve around it (how sad is it that I have to actually SAY that?) This chapter... well, does, but it never gets worse then this. Besides, isn't it worth it to see Apocalypse beating our favorite mutants senseless? I thought so.

Without further ado...

****

Walpurgis Night

__

I. Rise, Inferno

by Alhazred

---

Mesmero liked the weather in this part of Tibet. The mountains had their fair share of snow, but around _here,_ it was warmer. It was a comfortable warm, rather then suffocating heat. Maybe that was what had piqued his interest in the cavern when he happened by it years ago.

Maybe that was _why _the temperature was so noticeably different. Who wouldn't head for some warmth and cozy feeling... right into the Master's tomb? Mesmero remembered that had certainly been how _he'd_ found the place when he'd brought the first key. It had been quite a feeling, to be inside the temple for the first time after only receiving telepathic instructions from afar.

He loved the temple itself even more then the environment. It was old, it was crumbling into the mountain, and it was more of a cave then a temple because of time... but it was soothing.

And at the same time it was _exhilarating_.

Especially now, as he stepped down the path, each _tap_ of his heel a resounding echo to be savored. After all, this was only going to happen once. This accomplishment was the moment of a lifetime, but it was also _once _in a lifetime.

A terrible smile on his face, Mesmero patted down the final key in his pocket, shrugged the heavy leather on his shoulder farther up for stability, and walked toward the door. 

---

"Thanks for the grand tour... maybe I'll catch you later?"

"Small school," Scott chuckled. "Hey, do you need a ride anywhere? I have room today."

One seat was still room. Jean was staying after school to watch a movie for extra credit.

"No, I have a couple of settling-in things to tie up around here... but thanks. Catch you later."

New kids in school came every so often, but Scott wouldn't be forgetting this one for awhile. Being the prestigious Senior that he was, he usually got to show transferred students around. But they usually didn't look like the result of Lance Alvers and Pietro Maximoff being able to breed.

The guy, Joseph, Scott remembered, looked so much like a combination of those two it was freaky. His hair was long like Alvers' and it was also pure white like Quicksilver's, though not as shiny. And the colors of his clothes consisted of blue, black, and nothing else.

He wondered if something was going on that he didn't know about when Kurt showed up at his car with news that he and Rogue had plans. Kurt was going to 'port them both home later. On top of which, Evan had been called to the office just before lunch and had apparently _vanished._

So Cyclops, suddenly bored out of his mind, decided to drive around a little and think about something that was nagging at his brain. Even the Professor wouldn't need him this afternoon; he had invited someone down for an appointment.

That kid reminded him of someone, and it wasn't just the Brotherhood goons. If Scott didn't know any better, he would swear he'd met Bayville High's newest Junior before. He'd even said as much to him during the day, but of course it was a simple, passing thought.

Eventually, he realized he'd been driving _nowhere_ for an _hour _with absolutely no ideas about his own personal mystery for the day, so he finally headed back for the Institute.

No sooner had he finished the leftovers he'd found during a kitchen raid, Kurt came back.

"Hey Scott, didja hear?"

"Hear what?"

His eyes going wide, Kurt sat down across from his friend and smiled like a schoolgirl. "It's all over the news, man! The water-main at the school exploded, probably around the time we were leaving!"

"Kurt... why is a busted _pipe_ on the news?"

"Apparently," Kurt raised an eyebrow, "it was bombed."

Scott deadpanned. _With everything going on in the world, someone..._ "Bombed." 

"Bombed," Nightcrawler repeated once more, "leaving a precise, certainly-explosive blast pattern but no trace of anything."

"No trace." If Scott's face could look more flat, it would have. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"If you're thinking that the Brotherhood had Tabitha blow it so school would be cancelled tomorrow, then yes, I'm thinking what you're thinking."

"_Did_ they cancel school?" Scott's eyebrows went up.

"Yes, yes they did," Kurt raised a finger.

"The Brotherhood… or Tabitha... or both, didn't want to go to school tomorrow so she _planted a bomb?_ They're insane."

"They probably say the same thing about us every day," Kurt chuckled. "Jean narrowly escaped getting soaked, she happened to be on the ground floor at the time... Fortunately she had the sense to come see the Fuzzy Dude and take the short way home," Nightcrawler grinned. He flipped his hologram off and grabbed an apple before kicking back and looking smug.

__

Poor Jean, Scott thought. "So where is she?"

Chomping on his fruit, Kurt adopted a sour look. "She n'Kitty grabbed Rogue and went out to celebrate the homework-free weeknight. Personally I think she's just avoiding Duncan, not that I blame her."

"Oh, joy," came the reply, Scott suddenly looking a bit depressed. They both knew what happened the _last_ time the girls had gone out. Cyclops flopped back into his seat, an action during which he briefly felt guilty for hoping Duncan Mathews could have possibly been caught in so much water that he'd drowned. Kurt almost seemed to read his mind.

"Anyway, doesn't look like they got hurt though. Despite the explosion going through the first floor and getting multiple teachers wet," Kurt started waving his hands around to illustrate. "Man, Principle Kelly is going to be very _annoyed_ when he gets back, wherever he went..."

"Wow."

"Wow?" Kurt took another bite, "the Fuzzy spins a tale from Ripley's Believe it or Not and all you say is 'wow?'"

"Just that I never thought I'd be thanking the Brotherhood for anything. Well, okay, there was Juggernaut... but how often do they misbehave for everyone's benefit?"

Kurt looked at him for a second.

And then he burst out laughing, prompting Scott to do the same. "Good point!"

"Hey Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you ever _say _anything to her, man?"

Blinking a few times behind his shades, Scott's answer was simple. "_What?_"

"Jean. You know." Nightcrawler smiled that evil Fuzzy-Dude-Knows grin, "I mean, no offense, but it's kind of obvious you want to. So does she, cough, dance, cough. Ya think Evan and I were waiting for it for our health?"

"Ugh, Kurt, the dance, don't _remind_ me about the dance," Scott slumped back and rubbed at his temple. _I never imagined Jean could mind-bomb one person so much in one night._ "Tell you what. I'll give that a dignified response if you tell me why you care."

He wasn't actually expecting the furry mutant to answer. Kurt was just being Kurt, after all.

"Well, I dunno," the blue German answered. "I guess... ever since Amanda asked me to the dance it's kind of like... share the happiness, ya know? I have some, now it's your turn."

Scott was shocked. Kurt wasn't one to get deep about things like this. But then, after the childhood he'd been through any sort of real affection was bound to make him think. And he had no idea how to keep up his end of the little bargain.

So he changed the subject. "How _is _Amanda?"

"Great! And we're going out Friday night!"

In a conversational corner or not, Scott couldn't help but feel glad for his friend. He just hoped Amanda liked _him_, not the hologram's looks.

"So out with it Cyke, what _does _make Jean so unapproachable, I mean, assuming we share the same opinion of Duncan not worth factoring into the equation?"

Taking a deep breath, Kurt's field leader thought about avoiding the subject more by ragging on Duncan, but he knew Kurt wouldn't be fooled. "Well, thing is, Kurt, I... actually... I don't... _like _Jean. Like that."

"Aww, Scott, that's so lame. I told you, it's _obvious_," he smiled, "the way you two act around each other is... the whole brother-sister thing just _screams _unrequited love."

Profoundly dumbstruck, Scott answered, "It's not... _that _bad... is it?"

"Yeah Scott, yeah it is," Kurt smiled again. He had Scott right where he wanted him. And Scott knew it.

So he decided to come clean, as much to Kurt as himself. Besides, he had that bond with Kurt, having been the one to convince no one in the place was repulsed by how he looked. "Kurt?"

"Yeah?" Answered the teleporter, biting off the last good piece of the apple in his hand.

Scott looked into his eyes, a gesture made possible by the fact that he knew Kurt wouldn't see it, and willed his voice to sound as anti-joking as possible. "I'm gay."

Kurt choked on his fruit.

And he fell out of his chair with quite a racket to boot.

"Kurt?" Cyclops leaned over the table in time to see Kurt pull himself up and peer over.

"I meant to do that!" He proclaimed, sitting back down. He looked at Scott for a good minute before breaking the silence. "Really?"

"Yeah," Scott sighed. "First time I've even thought about it. Always been something I ignore. But at the end of the day it's always the same... Jean and I are like the siblings neither of us ever had and... You know, I think she was trying to get me to ask _Duncan_ to the dance so she could escape him."

He tried to smile, but Kurt's face was uncomfortably blank. Then the blue mutant said, "That is wrong on multiple levels..."

Scott's face fell. Kurt added; "I mean, that'd make _you_ the girl, wouldn't it?"

"You're right Kurt, that _is _wrong, that is _very _wrong," Scott shook his head. "_Anyway._ Jean kinda figured it out a while ago and bugs me every now and then to stop ignoring myself, usually in my head, but... And for the record, we were _both_ kinda miffed at the mixed signals that time a certain _someone _stole my car keys."

"Yeah, I think I get it," Kurt replied with haste, his cheeks turning red under his fur. "Um, actually... you kinda helped me with something."

"I did?" Scott's eyebrows went up.

"Yeah, um," the blue mutant looked away and twiddled his thumbs. "I kinda have something I should tell you guys, I dunno what you'll say, but... you know, since it's Big Secret Day or something..."

Scott couldn't help but wonder if Kurt was going to say the very same thing that he just had. How stupidly ironic would that be?

"And?" He prodded, half expecting Kurt to say something like 'I used to have a crush on you.' _That'd be so cliché, I'd laugh..._

"Where's Professor X?" The German suddenly asked.

"Down with Mr. McCoy trying to fix Cerebro," Scott told him. "It's been 'spotting' Magneto at the school all day. I think we would've seen that."

"Yeah, scary thought," Kurt looked around the kitchen, as if afraid someone would overhear. "Amanda kinda... knows."

And Scott had _no idea _what he was talking about. "Knows? Knows what?"

Clearing his throat, Nightcrawler elaborated. "She kinda... knows what happens when you press a certain button on my watch?"

And now it was Scott's turn to stare. "Kurt."

"Yeah?"

"She knows _what?_"

"Um, yeah... she... saw me turning it off once," the blue mutant answered, _avoiding_ the additional fact that it was a year ago. "And she told me at the dance. And I... kinda teleported her out away from those things Forge and I let loose. And then..."

"Then?" Scott prodded.

"We went for ice cream!" Nightcrawler grinned like an idiot, not before kicking back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. Unfortunately, his agility got the better of him this time with his mind in Amanda-land, and he leaned back so far he fell from the chair again.

Feeling a sudden pain developing behind his right eye, Scott slumped back once more, and answered, "What a day..."

"So that's that," Kurt sighed, climbing up again like nothing had happened, "I guess... I screwed up, huh?"

"Well, considering we haven't seen reports of monster mansions on the news and the National Guard isn't bashing in the gates... I guess she took it well." Getting up and tossing his dishes in the sink, Scott grinned, "So what _is _it like having a girlfriend, Fuzzy One?"

Kurt almost choked again, not having heard the dreaded word yet. "_Girlfriend?_"

"Well, she likes you, you like her, you're _dating _her, am I missing something? Cause I'm not the expert on girlfriends..."

"No... I guess not. Maybe I was missing something myself," Kurt couldn't keep from laughing; Scott, aside from joking a bit more then he usually did, had brought an interesting idea to his thoughts. _Girlfriend! _"Wow... I have a girlfriend!"

Scott couldn't resist. "Better you then me."

"Dude, you better drag yourself out of the closet," Kurt chuckled. "I dunno if I could handle being the brunt of every gay joke _from _you. Or at least find... someone."

With Kurt having enough trouble accepting his whole girlfriend idea, Scott found it amusing that he couldn't get the word 'boyfriend' out either. "Eh, I have my eye on someone."

"Ach, information not needed, me and my big mouth..."

Grinning in victory, Scott was satisfied with the half-lie. In truth, he was still thinking about the kid he'd shown around the school earlier in the day... he felt like he knew him to the point of obsession.

And Scott was praying that didn't mean he had a crush...

---

"Any luck guys?"

"We tried rebooting the system a few times," Beast answered, rubbing his eyes while Logan leaned against the wall, "erasing Magneto from the database..."

"Looking for other mutants, of which none were found that are already in the database," Xavier answered, "so we don't know if it's a fluke or if I'll be seeing Magnus every time a reading pops up... in short..."

Hank let out a sigh. "Cerebro's kaput and we might as well be drifting through space toward certain oblivion for all our ability to fix it."

"Okay, how bout this then," Logan walked over to the window and took a look outside. The grounds were surprisingly quiet; usually a bunch of the more wiry students could be seen blasting at each other for fun during any given afternoon. "Maybe Magneto really _is _around the school?"

"As disturbing a possibility as that is," Charles answered, "the school is close enough for me to 'see' and I've checked it without using Cerebro. Though I'm tempted to fly out and get closer to be absolutely sure, I'm fairly positive Magnus isn't around."

"So am I," Wolverine answered, much to everyone's surprise. "Now that you smart people came to the same conclusion, maybe I'm not imagining things after all."

Answering the unasked question, Wolverine held up the videotape in his hand and beckoned the two towards the nearest VCR.

"Some aspiring journalist had a camera at the school today."

Wolverine had turned the sound off, but it wasn't hard to see what was going on with his explanation. The camera bobbed around quite a bit, a testament to the fact that it certainly wasn't professionally done.

"Whaddaya see?" Logan hit pause.

"Football players driving recklessly?" answered Xavier.

"Yep," Wolverine answered. "Duncan Mathews to be exact, go figure."

"Wait, rewind it," asked Hank. After a few seconds, "Stop. There, play it."

The cameraman had gotten a great shot of the drama but Hank had spotted something amiss. "You know, it should be physically impossible to skid like that.

"See it?" Rewinding it again, Logan played it frame by frame. For awhile, the car in question was skidding sideways... and about to hit a car pulling into the driveway at full speed. But for the briefest of instants his car was _tilting_ towardthe other vehicle, and then in the next frame it was down and sliding in the completely opposite direction.

"Now watch," Wolverine rewound the entire tape and hit play, "this."

Again, he stopped it and started moving frame by frame, but he pointed a finger to the opposite side of the screen, where some students were visible. There was one student far in the back, one of the few facing where the accident would happen in a few short frames. As it started, the student's arm suddenly came up... and he was suddenly waving it to the side at the exact same time of Duncan's miraculous, impossible change of direction.

And moreover, while other students in the picture went about their business, the one in question seemed to take a quick look around and walk away.

"Logan, I do believe you've found something," Charles smiled, the distinct possibility of a telekinetic now present. "I expect not, but do we know who that is?"

Wolverine's answer was "Pfft, not a chance in Hell."

"And he's so far away from the camera," Beast moved closer to the screen, "that I seriously doubt there's anything to enhance and get an ID."

Staring intently at that picture, the thought crossed Xavier's mind that this was a dead end in the first place. Logan had implied, after all, that it was a long shot. "But it's certainly not Magneto."

"Logan," Hank started.

"Yeah?"

"If this was done by an amateur, how did you _get_ the tape?"

Logan shrugged, let out a 'hmm,' and walked away.

Beast decided he didn't want to know anymore.

---

Poking his head into Scott's room, Kurt asked, "Hey Scott, ya need anything before I go out?"

"Huh?" Kurt had managed to get his leader to look up from his computer. "Where're you going?"

"Oh, out with 'Manda."

An eyebrow raised, Scott replied, "I thought you two weren't going out until Friday."

"Well, what with no school tomorrow, homework can wait a _few_ hours."

Getting a thumbs-up and what looked like a wink from Scott, Kurt left him.

Scott had been in the process of checking his e-mail, a task he quickly got back to. His inbox was filled with the usual junk mail, a few real messages, one from his brother, and something he almost deleted anyway.

__

Meet me behind the music store your friends always shop at. I'll wait.

He didn't recognize the address it came from. But he knew the place... he and Rogue had been in there taking a break from their hunt for Warren Worthington.

And after considering what it might have been... Brotherhood trap, practical joke, or something important, Scott decided curiosity was going to kill the cat. Deleting the thing anyway so no one else would find it, he dashed out of his room.

"Kurt! Hey Kurt!"

And he ran into Kurt's just in time to see the furry mutant, his image inducer on, teleport away. Fortunately, Kurt had heard him just as he vanished and was quick to reappear. "You rang?"

"Eh, sorry man, could you do me a quick favor?"

---

__

I can't believe I'm doing this...

A finger tap-tap-tapping against the railing, he had that thought again. _I can't _believe _I'm doing this._

The waiting was the worst part. He had no idea if Scott Summers checked his e-mail regularly. For all he knew, Scott wouldn't be around for days. That was if he showed up at all.

But then, it seemed like a good idea to be as inconspicuous as possible.

But every few minutes the waiting became a welcome feeling. This wasn't exactly going to be _easy._ _Jesus Christ, I can't _believe _I'm doing this! _"ImustbeoncrackwhatamIthinking..."

The fire escape provided Pietro with a good view of the little alleyway. The view was pretty much the same as it had been an hour ago. Technically it wasn't _behind _the store, but the store didn't really have a 'behind' anyway.

Pietro wondered how much longer his patience would last when low and behold; the object of his attention came into sight.

Scott was completely oblivious to Pietro's position above him as he walked down the ally and looked around. Just as he turned to leave, Pietro got his attention.

"Fancy meeting _you_ here, Summers."

Turning his head so hard his neck almost snapped, Scott looked up toward the voice and immediately wished he hadn't. "Maximoff."

"No, the tooth fairy," Pietro leaned on the railing. "What'dyouexpect?"

Desperately trying not to pull his glasses off, Scott glared at him at him. "I expected something worth my time."

"Wait," Pietro called, Scott turning to walk away. In one fell swoop, Pietro grabbed the railing, flipped over, and landed perfectly on his feet. "Ijustwannatalk!"

Decrypting Pietro's mach-three speech after a second, Scott looked around as if he expected to be on Candid Camera. "What, is Fred about to burst through the wall while I'm distracted?"

"Oh that's _brilliant,_ Summers," Quicksilver retorted, running behind Scott in a split second. "In a public place with people close by, no less! I think us making a racket would be annoying."

"You're annoying already."

"IzzatsoShades?" Pietro ran around him again, the bite suddenly gone from his words. "Maybe I should just leave. Obviously you're about as friendly as Daniels."

"Not so fast, Maximoff, just what _is _up?"

Scott didn't trust him at all. As far as he was concerned, something _was_ up.

"Certainly not your IQ," Pietro rebuked, walking away. Scott wouldn't let him pass. "Don't be dense, Summers."

"You're telling _me _not to be dense?"

His anger rising, Pietro shoved Scott back.

And Scott, his reflexes taking over before he realized it, pulled his glasses off.

Of course, Quicksilver was nowhere near the line of fire by the time he opened his eyes, and the brick wall at the end of the alley took the hit.

Scott shut his eyes when he realized he'd slipped, but this left Pietro quite free to zoom away, knocking him over in the process.

Having suddenly lost the energy to get up, Scott let out a sigh. But he came close to panicking when he realized he'd dropped his shades...

---

"You can understand my surprise when I received your message a few days ago, Mr. Gyrich," Xavier sipped his tea, "One thing wee pride ourselves on is our ability to stay anonymous and find our students ourselves instead of... well, vice-versa."

"As you should, Professor," the rather large man smiled, sitting down across from his host's desk. "But, well, when one is in such an... Interesting situation as the parents of certain 'gifted' children are, things can be heard through the grapevine."

Xavier didn't like this a bit. He hadn't liked it ever since this guy had walked into his study. Something was _wrong_, and he didn't need to be psychic to know it. But it helped; something was strange about one Henry Gyrich, a man that had popped up on the Institute's doorstep with no warning whatsoever save a phone call the night before. He couldn't quite place his finger on it at first, but less then five minutes in the man's company it hit him.

Whoever Henry Gyrich was, he had an incredibly strong mental shield. He put out none of the usual mind pollution most people did. No casual, loud thoughts, no sense of presence, nothing.

And if he was at the Institute to talk about the mutant son he'd mentioned, then Charles Xavier was Stanley Tweedle. "So, what do you think of the Institute?"

"A nice place," Gyrich smiled, "but then, I expected... nothing else."

The look on his face sent chills down Xavier's spine. Fearing he would visibly shiver if his guest's smile deepened, Xavier turned and glanced out the window. "Well, I'm certainly flattered at that, Mr. Gyrich... "

---

Scott hadn't just _dropped _his glasses; the ruby might as well have grown legs and ran away because his searching hand couldn't find it anywhere nearby. The gust of wind Quicksilver tended to leave behind probably had something to do with it.

The idea of having to walk back to the Institute with his eyes closed didn't thrill Scott at all, but after more then a minute of groping around in the self-inflicted dark, it was a fast approaching likelihood.

"Hang on a second."

Scott didn't recognize the voice. But true to the owner's word, he felt a hand take hold of his own and hold it steady before the shades were in his grasp.

Able to see again as he stood up, Scott recognized his timely helper as the new kid he'd given a tour of the school, though the name completely escaped him at the moment.

"Oh don't worry, I wouldn't remember me either."

Scott wracked his brain. "Joseph... right?"

"Got it in one. You okay?"

"Sure," Scott dusted himself off. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"People usually aren't laying on the ground in alleyways."

"Point taken," was Scott's answer, though he certainly wasn't going to give anything else while they walked out of the isolated area and started down the sidewalk. "Where you headed?"

"Home," Joseph answered, pointing a finger off to his side. "Other side of town, thataway."

"That's a long walk," Scott blinked. "Hey, the Institute's closer; you can come with me and I'll give you a ride."

"I'd appreciate that," Joseph confessed. "Wait... why didn't you drive down here in the first place?"

Scott mentally winced at that, having talked himself into a bit of a corner. "Don't ask. Besides, _you're_ a little far from home, don't tell me this is as far as the bus goes."

"Nah, none of them headed down here anyway... which is annoying when one is trying to shop for someone's birthday," the white-haired boy defended. "Not that the three stores I've been in had what I was looking for."

Slightly annoyed at that thought, Joseph shoved his hands in his pockets and huffed.

And again, Scott tried to remember whom the kid reminded him off. It wasn't just the way he looked; something about his personality and the way he carried himself was starting to get gratingly familiar. _At least he's good-looking..._

---

Rogue was amused.

Kurt, Nightcrawler himself not only had a girlfriend, but the furry mutant had actually gone to _her_ for advice.

His girlfriend's parents wanted to meet him after she'd mentioned he'd gotten her out of harms way those demon things had attacked.

This, of course, had driven Kurt up the wall with fright. 'What if I bump into one of them?' he'd said. 'What if my hologram gives out?'

So Rogue had become the designated moral support.

She'd left him on the doorstep as soon as he rang the bell, much to his chagrin, and watched from afar like the scheming friend she was as Amanda opened the door.

That job done, she'd joined Kitty and Jean in some shopping, but being broke at the moment, she left them early and had decided to go for a walk.

---

"Geez, hold up... I need a break. Why do you have to live on top of a _mountain_?"

"It's not that bad," Scott defended, Joseph collapsing against the wall that bore the plaque showing off the Institute's address. "Just think... my car's in the garage... all the way over there."

Joseph pulled himself up, heaving for breath all the way, and they walked on toward the building

"Who's birthday were you shopping for anyway?" Scott asked, unable to resist. Walking so much even for _that _struck him as more then a little crazy.

"My Dad," was his answer, "My Dad... who is out of town for a few days... his brother just died..."

It struck Scott as odd that Joseph hadn't gone along. Uncles weren't distant relatives, last he'd checked. Not that Scott and his own brother wouldn't mind having a few other living blood relatives.

He decided not to press the issue. Neither said another word until Joseph walked through the garage door behind Scott. "Now that's a nice car."

The X-Man smiled. "Yep... she's my baby," he answered, patting his hand on the hood for good measure, and fishing for his keys with the other.

Joseph spoke up again just as he found them. "Uh... Scott... I have something to confess."

His tone didn't sound horribly inviting. "Go on."

Pausing as if he didn't know how to say it, Joseph came out with, "I was watching you at the music store."

"What?" Scott didn't catch on for a moment, clueless as to what he was talking about. Then it dawned on him; and he could _feel _the color drain from his face.

"Let me put it this way," Joseph tried again, unaware he didn't need to. "I was watching when you take your _glasses _off."

"I was afraid of that," Scott sighed. _Good one Scott... maybe I should just kill myself before the professor does. Stupid, _stupid, _Scott... I can't even blame Maximoff..._ "What are you going to do about it?"

A chuckle came from Joseph; he hadn't quite expected _that_ as a reaction. "I haven't got a clue. I was just happy that I'm not the _only _freak around."

Scott completely lost his ability to speak. It made a freakish kind of sense. After all, with Cerebro seeing nothing but Magneto, the professor thought it simply malfunctioning and misidentifying someone. The fact that that someone was standing in front of him just like _that _was almost absurd.

Joseph took his pause to mean ignorance. "Braindead, I'm _like _you."

Much to his surprise, Scott's keys pulled out of his hand and flew into Joseph's raised palm. The demonstration was as amusing as it was informative. Scott couldn't help but laugh as Joseph tossed him his keys back, and soon the younger boy had joined in.

"I didn't expect _this _when I got out of bed this morning," Scott chuckled. "But I can tell you what you could do about it."

Bringing fellow mutants to the veritable Shangri-La that was the Institute was the one thing that gave Scott more pride than his car. It also brought an inner conflict: tell Joseph he could go to the Brotherhood for fairness' sake or not? Of course, given the questions likely to be asked, he probably wouldn't have to.

"And what's that?" Joseph prompted him.

"Stick around for a little while, talk to Professor Xavier... everyone that _lives_ here is like us."

The younger mutant blinked a few times at that. "There's... a lot of us, huh?"

"Yep," Scott answered, leaning against his car. "The guys that live down at the Brotherhood of Bayville are mutants too."

There, that settled that.

"Mutant?" Joseph repeated. "Is _that _what we are?"

"Yeah," Scott smiled. "Depends on who you ask... come here and it's just a genetic mutation, go to certain others and we're Homo Superior."

"Figures. Nothing's ever simple. You know... I thought I was the only one until I saw you and the Road Runner. So you all live here... I mean, why doesn't anyone... _know?_"

"We keep it a secret," Scott was blunt. He decided not to mention he had personal experience in large amounts of 'normal' humans finding out about their little skeleton in the closet. "Better that then people being terrified of us. We all live here... train to control our powers better, _try _to do something good with it all every now and then but..."

"But?"

Scott scratched his head. "But, eh heh, we fall on our faces sometimes."

"Or make others do so? Locking doors on people from across the room is fun... I could use a break from my father sometimes, many small ones is just as good."

Scott winced. "That bad?"

With a laugh, Joseph answered, "No... But, you know how it is, it kinda sucks in a single parent family when you don't mix well with that parent."

Scott grinned like he was going insane, his mind drifting back to his conversation with Kurt earlier. "Heh, I know a little about not mixing well..."

"Really?"

Scott's face turned as red as his shades, his sole thought being _did I just say that out loud?_ "Uh... yeah, kind of."

"You uncontrollably fire red beams from your eyes, what could possibly 'mix' less then that?" Joseph chuckled and leaned against the wall. "Next you'll tell me you're gay."

A lump formed in Scott's throat. Fate was certainly being uppity today. Sometimes there was just no escape. _Ah, Hell with it. _"I am."

After staring at Scott for a moment, Joseph replied, "well, _that _I didn't expect."

On a proverbial roll, Scott grinned like an idiot. "Well, such is life. I certainly didn't expect it either. I only admitted it to myself... this afternoon."

"Well, if it makes you feel better," the other mutant answered, looking like he was holding back a fit of laughter, "we have _that _in common too. Well, not the 'this afternoon' part. I like to think I'm well beyond the 'God, what's wrong with me' phase."

Having his turn to stare, Scott came to a conclusion. "I _really _didn't expect this when I got out of bed this morning."

---

"What's your son's name, Mr. Gyrich?"

"Joseph," Xavier's guest responded, a hint of pride in his voice.

But it didn't quite sound like the pride a father usually felt. It was something more... sinister. One more item for the list of "Things Wrong with Henry Gyrich." Xavier was starting to get worried.

"Yes, he's quite the gifted boy... in fact I'm sure he would remind you of someone, given the chance..."

He talked like Xavier had nothing to do with that chance. This was the lasts straw for Charles: though he was open to the possibility that he was just being paranoid, he was certain Mr. Gyrich was nothing but a liar, and he was sure this man knew his story wasn't holding.

Neither of them spoke again for a few seconds, but Charles felt a pull in his mind, a mental probe. His outer defenses were being nicked at, tested.

And it took him all of a second to realize Henry Gyrich was the telepath causing this. Still, he had an excuse, if Mr. Gyrich were a mutant himself then surely he would want an unbiased knowledge base on what he was dealing with in these circumstances.

Not that Xavier bought that idea, but he wasn't about to throw a fit over something that _could _be easily explained. Nevertheless, he didn't let Gyrich in, making certain to look ignorant and pretend his perception wasn't enough to sense the intrusion consciously.

Deciding getting away from Henry's steel gaze for a moment would help him think, Xavier rotated his chair somewhat and glanced out the window. "I look forward to meeting your son, Mr. Gyrich... Mr. Gyrich?"

He turned back.

Henry Gyrich had vanished into thin air.

---

"Huh, everyone must've gone out... the professor's busy too," Scott surveyed the lounge and checked his watch, noting that even the younger recruits showed no signs of their presence. It was certainly a rare moment of quiet.

And he'd known Xavier was preoccupied anyway because, overlooked by Cerebro or not, Joseph walking into the Institute would have set bells and whistles off in his telepathic head instantly.

Joseph planted himself in a chair, but the stereo caught Scott's gaze. "Looks like Kitty was here."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because this is hers," Scott picked up an open jewel case from the cabinet. The CD wasn't in it, but Joseph could clearly say an extremely sappy and boorish name across the cover, suggesting that whatever it was, it was a chick thing. "I feel bad for Kurt, having a room next to her at night..."

"That's the best thing about not digging the ladies, Scott. No chick flicks. Or chick music in this case."

"Heh, yeah." Scott pondered that. Then he looked at the back of the case, and his expression turned into a slight but heavily wicked grin. _I might as well do it... how many guys like me can like someone and _act _on it?_

A glance toward Joseph told the X-Man that his friend was still looking around the place and taking everything in. A look at the CD player told him that yes, Kitty _had _forgotten to take her incredibly dramatic romance compilation out of the thing.

So he walked over and set it to play the last track. Joseph shot him a look when he heard the music start, and looked like he'd gag when the singer began.

__

I've been watching you awhile

Since you walked into my life

Monday morning, when first I heard you speak to me

With a chuckle, Scott walked over and reached an arm out. This was so corny it would probably work. "May I?"

"What?" Joseph frowned.

"And you call _me _Brainless," was his answer. "I'm asking you to dance, Knucklehead."

"Oh _Hell no,_' The other mutant deadpanned, not even comprehending the other implications of what Scott had said in the first place. But Scott wouldn't take no for an answer. Joseph soon found a hand clamped around his forearm before Scott pulled him clear out of the chair and held him close.

"I can't dance," he blurted out, clearly embarrassed by this.

"I don't mind."

__

I was too shy to let you know

Much too scared to let my feelings show

But you shielded me and that was the beginning 

Scott used this as a cue to take the lead, and soon discovered that Joseph not only didn't know how to dance, he barely knew where his hands should have gone. But he really _didn't _mind.

__

Now at last we can talk

In another way

And though I try; I love you,

Is just so hard to say

If I only could be strong

And say the words I feel

Once they got a rhythm going, Scott half-rested his head on Joseph's shoulder. Despite his opaque shades, he was too shy to look him in the eyes. And he didn't want Joseph to see him wince every time he felt his foot being stepped on.

"Joseph?"

"Yeah?"

Scott almost bit his tongue, but he forced his mouth to move. "I think I like you. A lot."

Joseph opened his mouth to say something along the lines of 'the dance thing kinda gave it away,' but he stopped himself and instead came out with, "You do?"

__

My bleeding heart begins to race

When I turn to see your face

I remember that sweet dream

Which you told to me

I wanted just to be with you

So we could make the dream come true

And you smiled at me and that was the beginning

"Yeah... yeah, I do."

"Scott?" Joseph breathed. "I've... never really been in a relationship before..."

Trying desperately not to laugh, Scott answered, "Oh what, like I have?"

He _did _laugh when Joseph did the same.

__

Now at last we can talk

In another way

And though I try; I love you,

Is just so hard to say

If I only could be strong

And say the words I feel

Not quite fumbling his steps as much anymore, Joseph leaned back so he could see Scott's face. Scott, on the other hand, grabbed his glasses on reflex when his dance partner moved a hand from his waist to take them off.

"I wanna see your face," he smiled. "I can live without the whole see-into-your-soul-through-your eyes thing."

Raising an eyebrow behind his shades, Scott wondered how he got so paranoid about loosing them in the first place. It wasn't like Joseph was stupid enough to yank them off with no warning.

So Scott closed his eyes and tugged them away, his movements stopping on the fear he might trip and accidentally open his eyes.

Still with his other hand holding Scott's, Joseph traced his fingers down the X-Man's face, curving them around where his shades hid his skin as if he could form a clear picture of it in his head through touch.

__

Tell me what you're thinking of

Tell me if you love me not

I have so much I long to ask you

But now the chance has gone

When your picture fades each day

In my heart the memory stays 

Though we rant, you're always smiling

And I will hold it long

Joseph took a deep breath as the song ended, and he kissed Scott. Fighting the reflex to open his eyes, Scott tried not to fall over from the shock

On that thought, he pulled his hand from Joseph's and wrapped his arms around him. Joseph did the same.

"This is worse then Titanic! Gag me now!"

__

Flash! And a sound filled the room.

Joseph blinked. He pulled away from Scott and gave him room to throw his glasses on. Slowly, really _not _wanting to register what it looked like had just happened; they turned their heads.

Scott's jaw hit the floor. "Maximoff?"

Indeed, Pietro Maximoff stood in the doorway, a wry smile on his face, Jean's camera in one hand and the picture he'd just taken in the other. The Polaroid was Quicksilver's new best friend. He waved it through the air, pretending to make it develop faster. "My my my, this'll be an interesting collector's item, eh lover boys?"

"Maximoff, gimmie that!" Scott yelled.

Quicksilver's smile turned deadly. "WhatifIdon'twanna?"

And with that, he dashed back out the front door, but not before he even took the care to replace Jean's camera from where he'd found it in her room.

Joseph and Scott promptly yelled, "Shit!" before running after him.

Fortunately, Pietro had decided to taunt them more on the front lawn. With one more flaunt of his prize, he dashed for the fence.

"And he's stupid enough to run in a straight line," Scott commented, turning his head with a careful deliberateness before he pulled his glasses up and blinked.

The optic blast was right on the mark and caught one of Pietro's ankles. With a cry that sounded something like 'wahhhhh!" he lost his footing and took a header at super-speed, flipped over in mid air, landed flat on his back, and skid four feet right to the fence he'd been planning to leap over.

Before he could stand, Joseph grabbed at said fence with his powers and bent a bar of it down and around Quicksilver's ankle.

"Hey, lemmiethehellup!"

"Fat chance, Maximoff," Scott shot back in between gasps. While Pietro had gotten so far easily, it was quite a distance to run in a short time for someone without super speed. Catching his breath, Scott leaned down and snatched the photo from Pietro's hand.

"Tch, no one's got a sense of humor here. Take a joke, already guys," Quicksilver pleaded.

"Yeah, blackmail is a great joke," Joseph answered.

"Oh, please. Yeah, and how do I explain to anyone how I_ got_ the thing in first place?"

Seeing no further point in it, Scott motioned for Joseph to let him up. The fence returned to normal and Pietro sprang to his feet. And at that exact moment, it occurred to Scott just exactly what Pietro _meant _by 'where I got it.'

"Wait a mi- Maximoff, what are you _doing _here?"

"Heh, wouldn't you like to know," he answered, stretching his arms out to the sides and swinging them in front before leaning down. "Catcha later guys."

With that, Quicksilver threw himself backward with such speed that he somersaulted right over the fence.

Scott held the picture at arm's length, his unseen eyes studying it.

"Heh," Joseph smirked, "I think it's _better _then Titanic, myself."

---

Pietro hated parks. But at the moment, a park held the most convenient place to sit down. Or rather, to lye down after his little encounter. He picked a vacant bench at random and began the not-so-rigorous process of vegetating.

__

It wasn't my _fault, I _tried_ talking to him again... that whole scene was just too damn much..._

He didn't want to head back to the Brotherhood house, because everyone would notice something was wrong and everyone would bug him about it and it just wasn't something he wanted to deal with. He'd been avoiding everyone as much as possible lately; deathly afraid they'd somehow figure out what he was thinking.

And for two days, he'd felt even more dragged down now that he actually tried to do something about it. _You idiot, Summers... why'd I even try talking to you...._

But then, Pietro sat up and snickered. He had to restrain himself from breaking out in hysterical laughter. The thought of Scott reminded him of the scene he'd just retreated from. And the whole thing was just too funny. Just the way Scott had a few certain girls fawning over him all the time on top of it was hilarious, and it all combined to form Pietro's first amusing memory since he had started thinking about... things.

"God, what's so funny Pete? Or should I be afraid to ask?"

"Heh, hey Stripe, haven't seen much of _you _around."

"Ugh, don't call me that," Rogue rolled her eyes and instinctively brushed the white hair out of her face. "Fancy meeting _you _here."

"I needed space," Pietro put his legs down from the bench. "Whydonchatakeaseatandwecansavorthiscivilizedconversation?"

Giving him a look that screamed '_please _stop doing that,' as she registered only the 'civilized conversation' part, Rogue reluctantly did so. Though it occurred to her that although Pietro really _wasn't _a bad guy, and _was _perfectly capable of making civilized conversation when he and Evan weren't trying to kill each other, it was a bit odd of him to actually offer it.

"You look like you've been giving yourself a headache thinking too much," she commented, noticing the circles under his eyes.

"Yeah, well, that's how it is. I dunno, lately I feel kindatrappedbutnotreallyImeanI'mkindasickofhowthingshavebeengoinandIreallyneed..."

Pietro stopped on a dime when he saw that Rogue wasn't listening. It was more then being unable to understand his accidental speed talk; she was staring _way _off into space. After developing a few theories on why, he picked the one that would be most amusing and went for broke.

"Yo, Rogue, snap out of it." He waved a hand in front of her face, and she jumped. "You look like you're pining over someone." _This is too good..._

"Oh shut up," she yelled. He returned her glare half-heartedly, having hit pay dirt. Finally, she slumped on the armrest, sighed, and rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine. I like Scott. I _like _Scott, I wish Jean would stop drooling over him, I wish he would stop 'pining' for _her _and notice me for a change, and yes, sometimes I even wish it was physically _possible _for me to jump him every now and then. Ya happy Pete?"

"You like Scott," he deadpanned.

"Didn't I just _say _that," she frowned.

"You _like _Scott," he repeated. She didn't respond this time.

And after half a minute, Pietro went into such violent laughter that Rogue thought he was having a seizure. Especially when he fell off of the bench.

Pietro, however, had taken it upon himself to laugh with super speed, and as such recovered fairly quickly. He was sitting down again within a matter of seconds as if nothing had happened.

"You have no idea how funny that is."

"Oh really?" She scowled. "And just _why _is my love life... or lack thereof... funny?"

"CauseScottalreadyhasaboyfriendandhedoesn'tneedyou."

"Pietro, would you _slow the hell down _maybe to two words a second?"

Realizing his jibe had been totally lost and the humor was destined to fail, Pietro made a face. "Um, well... Scott's gay."

Rogue shot him a glare. "You said all of that just to insult Scott?"

Biting back another laugh, Pietro waved a hand around to accentuate his point. "No, not happy-gay, _GAY_ gay."

"Oh come on Pietro, think of something original."

He looked into her eyes and didn't say another word. Her expression one of numb shock, she added, "You're... not kidding are you?"

"Nope."

"Oh c'mon, that's _out_ there, Pietro." She waved him off. "Besides, how would _you _know an-"

"I walked in on him and this kid that looks like my... looks like someone I know making out," he cut her off. For a brief moment, he wished he _had _gotten away with that picture. "Freaky image, eh?"

Rogue bit her lip. And then she slumped back and rolled her eyes. "Why me..."

Pietro hadn't been expecting that. He'd almost hoped she'd take it badly so the conversation would stay amusing. "Huh?"

"Oh, you know." She answered. "First guy I touched fell into a coma, then I dig the guy who isn't interested. Maybe someone's trying to tell me something... yeah. Maybe I'll swear off love for a while."

Pietro decided this was _far _more amusing then Rogue freaking out; most teenagers, let alone ones who could touch people in the first place, didn't react well to this particular romance situation. But he didn't really act on this thought; Rogue suddenly shot up, a look on her face like she'd heard something he didn't. Without warning, she pulled a glove off and planted her hand right on his face.

Shocked, he opened his mouth to scream, to yell at her to get off, but all he got out was a gasp for breath as his strength ebbed into her.

Finally, she pulled away, looked around, and took off in a burst of speed leaving Quicksilver about to flop off of the bench again. Perversely curious, however, he ignored the sudden need for sleep, for replenishment, and forced himself to stand and follow in an unsteady and much slower run.

---

"Nice job on the fence," Scott commented, his face turning red. He shoved the picture into a pocket.

"Yeah... would you believe me if I said I have no idea what it is?"

"Really? Looks kinda like telekinesis. Jean'll be jealous, heh heh," Scott answered.

Joseph searched his pockets for a hair tie and, finding one, pulled back the strands that had plastered to his face from the exertion of running after Pietro. "Well, yeah, but I mean... only works on metal, I figured out."

"Only works on... metal," Scott started to ask.

But then he trailed off, for the elusive answer to a simple yet _annoying_ question had finally caught up with him. The color drained from his cheeks, and he looked Joseph over with a new thought on his mind. The way he'd been pulling his hair back made it just right, and he even paused when he caught Scott staring at him like something was horribly wrong.

"Scott?"

But Scott didn't hear him. Joseph's expression, the dull white of his hair, the way he carried himself, Cerebro's odd behavior all day, and to a lesser extent the other mutant's voice added up with his gift to form one, single solitary thought, one word that Scott heard thundering in his head.

"Magneto..."

"What?"

Scott took a frightened step back without noticing. It was surreal. The way Joseph had always looked familiar, an oddity Scott had chosen to ignore, wasn't just suddenly in his face, but it was boring it's way back through his cursed eyes straight to the base of his skull. _Magneto... Magneto... I just **kissed **Magneto..._

He felt sick. The whole idea was absurd, it _had _to be a freakish coincidence; after all, Joseph was his age and Magneto was as old as Professor Xavier. He _had _to be imagining things.

But he could see nothing but Magneto standing in front of him. "Who... what the hell _are _you?" He stuttered.

Joseph almost fell over.

"His existence is no concern of yours, brat." Both mutants turned to see a man staring at them from about twenty feet away. He stood, dressed in a suit underneath a baggy leather coat, with his arms crossed and fixed an unblinking gaze on Joseph. But the voice couldn't have come from him. The voice that has spoken those words had been heavy, loud... inhuman.

The man strode forward, and as he did so, a band of white light formed above him and swirled over his form. He vanished not unlike Kurt would, except with a less abrasive sound.

Sensing a presence behind him, Joseph spun around and found the man had teleported behind him. And this time, when he spoke, the freakish truth was that he _was _the source of that voice.

"Such an easy thing you were to find," that voice declared, reaching an arm out. Joseph staggered back. "It amuses me that you were _here _of all places."

And then the man stopped, his face twisting in anger at something unseen. Clutching at his head, he looked around franticly and settled upon the slightly distant sight of Charles Xavier at the walkway to the front door, his own hand at his head as he concentrated.

"You think you can get inside _my _head," the stranger growled to himself. "I encourage you to remember what happened last time, Xavier."

Seconds later, the professor reeled back in his chair as if he'd been slugged right across the face.

Seeing this, Scott was quick to pull his glasses off and let his eyes blast the apparent telepath for all they were worth.

And Scott was horrified to find that he didn't budge, didn't _move _save for an annoyed look.

"There are those that spent their entire lives trying to destroy me," he raised an arm, hand balled to a fist as something seemed to _move _under the sleeve. Scott had the distinct impression that he was staring down the barrel of a gun. "When will you learn that it can not be done?"

Scott tensed. He wanted to dive away, obviously something was coming and that would be the best course of action.

But he never got the chance. The bolt of energy just came too fast, and Cyclops took it head on and he went down hard.

Joseph tried to run to his aid, but he couldn't move. He couldn't even speak. Something stopped him from doing so, stopped him from doing _anything._

"As for you," he heard the stranger's voice boom, "go to sleep now."

Pain searing through his chest, Scott pushed himself up and found his shades just in time to see Joseph pass out on the ground and their attacker stride toward him. His mind racing, he tried to think of something he could do, _anything_, but his full-on uncontrolled optic blast hadn't phased the man and now he wasn't sure he'd even be able to stand.

Fortunately, he didn't have to just yet. A second after Scott felt a sudden wind pass his skin, he saw a blur of _something _in motion behind the man, a blur that leapt through the air at his back.

Slowing down in midair, Rogue wrapped her arms around the tall man's neck and, her gloves already gone, pressed a hand to his cheek. "Gotcha."

The scream he let out was almost maddening; Scott felt an urge to cover his ears when that inhuman voice howled in agony as Rogue held on for dear life. On the ground, Joseph opened his eyes and blinked, now free from his telepathically induced slumber.

He and Scott looked on in both amazement and horror as the man not only lost his footing, but seemed to lose his very form as well. Finally, the sound of metal touching metal ringing, he changed. The middle-aged, slightly wrinkled face turned much younger, perhaps to that of a twenty-five year old. His skin and hair darkened into different shades of _blue_, and his clothes gave way to an almost organic blue-tinted armor wrapping itself around him in segments from somewhere unseen.

It was almost freakish that his overcoat was the only thing unchanged.

When he spun around in an attempt to fling Rogue off, Scott could see a dark blue letter 'A' sewn into the leather of his coat. His scream turning to a gurgle as his strength drained, he reached a hand up to tear her off and apart if need be, but Joseph beat him to it, the metal around his hand suddenly restrained in a magnetic field.

But he was _still _too strong, and he'd wrap a fist around Rogue's head any second. Scott put two and two together. If Rogue's touch really drained his strength...

"Rogue, let him go!" He yelled, a hand at his glasses to get the point across. But she didn't seem to have enough strength to look. In fact, she seemed to fall off of her victim rather then let go.

Whirling around with what little strength remained, the man's eyes went wide as he saw Scott pulling his shades off again, suddenly terrified of something he didn't blink from earlier.

A split second later, Scott opened his eyes. The blast he let out now sent his target flying with quite a yell, but before he landed some thirty feet away he stretched an arm one more time and fired his own hidden weapon again.

Already weak, Scott was knocked clear into unconsciousness this time and he quickly fell back to the ground.

Smoke rising from his charred armor, the bluish man stumbled to his feet in a rage, angry that he had been bested so easily. With an agitated wave of his arm, he vanished in another flash of light.

As if on cue, Nightcrawler appeared on the lawn in his poof of smoke, the Professor's urgent voice still ringing in his head while Jean and Kitty let go of his arms.

And all three of them were quite horrified to find Professor Xavier quite a distance away but obviously in pain, a bruised, battered and unconscious Cyclops, a rather shaken mutant they didn't know, and Rogue on the ground, curled into a ball and shivering like it was fifteen degrees outside.

Ironically, Kurt himself was startled that her skin had turned blue.

---

"So, like, lemmie get this straight." A puzzled look on her face, Kitty began counting off on her fingers. "Scott's out cold, Rogue's in some weirdo coma, there's a blue guy running around who wants this mutant who looks like Magneto from decades ago, and this mutant who looks like Magneto from decades ago is, like... here."

"Yeah kid," Logan sighed, propping himself up against the wall. "That's about it."

"Man, why is every freaky mutant blue," Kurt asked; a twinge of self-consciousness in his voice, though certainly not as much as there would have been a year ago.

"He's not a mutant," Xavier answered. He knew that much at least, or Cerebro would have spotted him long ago. Power like that wasn't so refined in the first use. "I'm afraid we're not quite sure _what _he is. Except..."

"Except," Jean ventured, "he's the... whatever it was that..."

"That was responsible for the theft of those Tibetan rings, yes," Xavier cut her off, not wanting the specifics of that incident to be brought up. Jean, Kurt, and Kitty didn't need to be reminded of the whole thing. "If we could find Mesmero we might get some answers, but I haven't been able to locate him."

"Hey Chuck, question," Logan half-heartedly raised a hand. "How do we _know_ this guy is the mindbender, anyway?"

Instead of giving them a simple answer, Charles paused. Briefly, he glanced around at everyone in the room as if he was afraid of answering. Nevertheless, he turned his gaze toward the door. Raising his voice a bit, he said, "Hank, why don't you bring him in now?"

The door that lead into the kitchen swung open and everyone, save Charles, stared in complete and total confusion at the sight of Beast gently prodding Pietro Maximoff into the room.

Glancing around the room, Pietro shoved his hands into his pockets, rolled on his heels a bit, and said, "Um... heyeveryonehowyouguysdoinlately?"

A few seconds later, the group, having understood absolutely nothing of what Quicksilver said, replied with a collective nod and an 'uh huh!'

---

__

There are those that spend their entire lives trying to destroy me. When will you learn it can not be done?

When Scott realized he'd just now opened his eyes, he shut them; but there was no sound of destruction, no indication that he'd blown a hole through the wall or knocked someone into next week. The memory of that _thing _still fresh in his mind, he brought an unsteady hand up to his face and found he was wearing the goggles he usually put on at night.

He also realized, as he fully woke up, that it _was _night, he was in his room, in bed, and under the covers.

__

And the fact that I still have my pants on is a good tip I didn't get here under my own power. When that realization came, so did a monstrous headache when the day's events had finally resettled in his mind. He remembered being blasted silly, and he felt the bruises that proved it.

But he felt something else in the back of his mind, another clear recollection about earlier. _What the Hell **are **you?_

Joseph...

Soft taps, _tap tap, tap,_ reached Scott's ears. Placing the sound as someone typing on a keyboard, he reached for his nightstand and turned the light on. Joseph was sitting cross-legged on the floor at the foot of his bed, leaning over a laptop. Scott could see a phone cord hooked into it.

"Everyone thought you'd be more comfortable here... Professor Xavier said you weren't hurt really bad..."

He hadn't looked away from the screen, and Scott couldn't see what was on it, but Joseph didn't seem off at all, as if nothing had happened. And it made Scott feel worse.

"Joe."

"Yeah?"

__

What the Hell **are **you rang in Scott's head again and again, every now and then sounding like _What the Hell **are **you that you can stand being in the same room with me?_ He noticed his shirt on the doorknob and got up to grab it just to distract himself. "Why are you... why..."

"Why am I still here?" The white-haired mutant finished. "Because... what else were you supposed to say?"

Pushing his head out through his shirt, Scott saw that Joseph had slid the laptop over to his side so the screen was in plain view.

One side of it was a mug shot of Magneto, and the other half was scrolling through all of Cerebro's data on the Master of Magnetism. Finding that his right leg was currently most unwelcome to weight, Scott limped over, at a loss for words. 'I'm sorry' certainly wouldn't cut it.

"Scott... what am I?" Joseph lost his previous calm; he sounded like he was about to cry.

"Don't ask that," was the answer. Scott sat down next to him.

"Why not? It's the perfect question... what am I," he repeated, looking at Magneto's picture again. The resemblance was beyond uncanny.

Desperately wishing he could undo the whole thing, Scott bit his lip in a resolve to choose the right words this time. "Because... because you shouldn't need to. Because you're 'you,' before you're anything else. Because... you're someone I like... and if I wasn't a complete idiot I would've kept my mouth shut and be satisfied with that."

"Scott," Joseph breathed, his form slumping against the other mutant like he didn't have the strength to support himself anymore. "Don't leave me..."

"I won't," Scott answered, silently telling himself that he should be the one begging that. "I won't."

He wrapped an arm around Joseph's shoulders... and with his other hand, he reached forward and closed the laptop.

---

No one was expecting the doorbell to ring before Pietro could start saying... whatever it was he was going to say. Considering a light rain had started not long after everyone had calmed down, most people had already gotten inside somewhere in case it got worse.

Nevertheless, Logan and Xavier and headed for the front door. The gate wouldn't close for another half-hour, so whoever it was had come just in time.

Logan wanted to get 'it' over with quick, he wasn't entirely sure he trusted Quicksilver in the room. Or the others not to say the wrong thing and piss him off. Although, with Evan gone for the moment, that was fairly unlikely.

Both of them were a bit taken aback when Logan opened the door to reveal a slightly damp man with a backpack over one shoulder. The visitor looked at least 30, but he dressed like a teenager underneath his white lab coat: an orange ADIDAS T-shirt, faded jeans, and tennis shoes completing his repertoire with blue, spiked hair topping him off.

What worried Logan was his face; normal people just didn't paint their faces white with diamonds of red encircling their eyes, complete with black outlines that were drawn up to his hairline and down to his cheeks on both sides.

"Can we help you?" Xavier asked.

"Actually I was wondering if I can help _you,_" the visitor answered. "Let me save you the trouble of asking: my name is Sinister, you've recently met a man who is, quite literally, _blue_ and from the impatient looks I'm getting, he probably kicked your asses or mindfucked someone good."

"So what's it to you?" Logan's stared him down, not missing a beat.

"What's it to me, he asks," Sinister chuckled. "Apocalypse is the key to my life's work. As such, I know a lot about him."

"Apocalypse?" Xavier asked, though he knew the answer already.

"Blue boy has an ego. Couldn't tell you what his real name is. To get to the point, because I'm starting to get wet out here... I know more about him then you do, I _need_ to research him for my work, and I need the resources to do it. You _have _those resources, and you need what I can give you. All I want's an honest to God bed to sleep in and you get my esteemed services for free."

The situation was serious enough for Logan to keep his temper in check. Though he _did _broadcast a simple thought for Xavier to pick up. _Is he as much of a loon as he looks like, Chuck?_

Perhaps, Logan, but he's telling the truth... about his knowledge as well as his intentions. He may be able to help Rogue.

Ordinary people would have immediately turned the odd man away. But then, Xavier was hardly ordinary; being able to read minds came in handy. Logan motioned for the visitor to come inside.

"Now we're talking."

"Just don't do anything funny, Bub."

They led him back to the study, where the kids were, Pietro most of all, fidgeting around and quite suddenly becoming confused at the odd man's presence.

"Speedy Gonzales here was just about to tell us about the blue guy," Logan intoned, leaning against the wall as if he'd never been gone.

The newcomer pulled up a chair. "Yes, do tell Mr. Sinister _everything._"

---

Apocalypse starts breaking peoples' faces next chapter. Yeah, you know you've been waiting for it. 8P

Special thanks to Julia for three things: writing a kick ass Apocalypse fic (go read "The Beginning and the End" right now,) being really spiffy to talk to, and for actually _reading_ this.

More special thanks to Kreliana and Cloud for help with this and to Cloud for helping immensely with the Original Badass Apocalypse Design.

Oh yeah, busted water mains WILL get you a day off from school, I speak from experience. Just don't get any ideas, m'kay?

The ref list:

Joseph is using a line from American Beauty when he helps Scott after Quicksilver leaves.

The song that Scott puts on is "The Words I Feel" from Xenosaga. (Don't glare at me like that, I _warned _you this would contain mass amounts of sappiness... just wait till Pietro gets his girl...)

I think I'm forgetting here... should you catch some quote I obviously st... erm, borrowed, lemmie know :P


	2. Baptize, Inferno

Disclaimer – I still don't own X-Men: Evolution or anything else that belongs to Marvel…. (insert witty disclaimer here.)

Having just now seen "The HeX Factor" as I write this note, I've decided that yes, this fic can take place after it. Yep, that means a bit of Wanda, just not much cause I hadn't planned for her in the first place... but geez, I still wonder if I was hearing that conversation between Scott & Jean right. If there's ever been dialog that required absolutely _no_ effort to be deliberately and grossly misinterpreted by slash authors, it has to be that.

On the other hand, this most certainly is AU after "The HeX Factor." As I write THIS note, I've just seen "Day of Reckoning," and I have... other ideas for the things DoR handled. Mwa hah hah. I say that like it's not AU already, cause, yeah, you know Scott and Jean are gonna hook up sometime, but... now I'm just talking too much.

Finally, I'm a big fat liar. It's true. I promised the slash would be at it's worse in chapter 1, and I managed to outdo myself here. For the sake of humor, no less -_-; Eh heh. But yeah, if you try to read around the slash (wouldn't blame you,) I suggest you skip the first scene involving Scott and Joseph alone in a room and jump right into the Pietro-humor.

****

Walpurgis Night

__

II. Baptize, Inferno

by Alhazred

madarab20@hotmail.com

__

I'm very good with pain. –Isembard Prince, Lexx

---

Pietro hated the rain. He just couldn't stand it because it forced him to slow down. All that water in his eyes... it just wouldn't do for him to run headfirst into a lamppost because everything was a blur. It certainly wouldn't do his face any good...

So, mired deep in thought, he was forced to... jog. Pietro Maximoff, Quicksilver himself, was reduced to the gentlest of trots because of falling water.

He would never let himself live it down.

Deciding it was all or nothing, Pietro slowed to a walk. Through one of those quaint little suburban parks and he was there anyway. Not that said park was anything more then some lawns and a walkway or two lined with bushes, but it was still a shortcut.

He wasn't entirely sure why he was afraid of going home, either. It wasn't like the Brotherhood had a telepath, even if Tabitha could have been a tele-pain when she was feeling nasty and Mystique could read body language like a book. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to _miss_ Tabitha in comparison to the blue shape shifter. So Mystique and Lance, good friend that he was, would realize in short order that something was amiss, but Pietro didn't have to tell them anything.

Unless Wanda let loose with a hex and forced him to blab his mouth off, an improbability she could most certainly influence.

But the Brotherhood didn't really concern Pietro. Friends and family or not, he couldn't bring himself to let loyalty to his friends enter the equation. No, the little thought that had since turned into an obsessive idea was a personal matter. The others didn't have to think about what Mystique wanted them to do. They didn't...

What was that?

Suddenly feeling like a supporting character in a slasher movie, Pietro wiped the rain from his eyes for the billionth time and spun around.

Nothing was there. Most sane people were either inside for the storm or driving through it instead of walking, anyway. But why could he have sworn someone had stepped on a twig...

Shrugging it off, the speed demon turned around.

And he nearly jumped out of his shoes, for there was now a tall, shadowy person blocking his path, a person who was most assuredly not there a few seconds ago. Once his heart rate returned to normal, Pietro lost his fear; it wasn't like he couldn't outrun or use his speed to outfight a mugger, rain or not.

So he stood still while the man, at least he assumed it was a man from the figure's build, stumbled forward. The stumbling was what worried Pietro; the guy didn't move like he was in the best of health.

The creepy image faded somewhat when the figure stepped away from the relative shade provided by a nearby tree. Not that there was any sunlight to begin with, but the clever could make themselves look cryptic when they needed.

As far as Quicksilver was concerned, the guy wasn't exactly dressed like a model citizen. He was bald not unlike Xavier... except Xavier didn't have a mass of greenish tattoos curling around his face or a Dracula robe over his shoulders.

And Xavier didn't walk around with blood on his shirt. On top of it all, Pietro recognized him; he was Mesmero, the obligatory fortune-teller that had been a part of this year's carnival.

Every sense he had told Pietro the dude was bad news at the moment... he planned on running and being done with it.

Then... then Mesmero smiled.

"I know you," he breathed, more a realization then a revelation. "Yes, I considered using you once... perhaps I can do so now. Yes, an ironic way of getting back at that miserable bastard... _after everything I did for him..._"

He coughed, hacking up what might have been more blood in the dim light nature currently offered. 

Now Pietro was determined to run. Mesmero was seriously screwed and he didn't want to be mixed up in it.

So he had to wonder why, if he was telling his legs to run in the opposite direction, he was instead walking toward the shady character.

He was walking against his will. Every step was against his volition; his mind no longer had any say in his actions.

The loss of control stayed right up until he was standing face to face Mesmero, whom he now realized to be a telepath. But it didn't particularly matter, because Pietro wasn't going to move, not when he felt like he was slowly but surely falling asleep.

But he wasn't falling asleep. No, he was falling into a trance, and he couldn't do anything about it.

__

Quite suddenly, he opened his eyes and found he was dry. No more rain, but no more park, for that matter. He looked around and realized he was in some sort of cave, a cave decorated with high columns and artwork on the carved-flat walls. Sunlight lit the crumbling temple from the entrance.

And Mesmero was quietly walking along the passageway, a determined but pleased expression on his face, a huge black... thing, leather it looked like, slung over his shoulder. Most importantly, there was no hole in his chest. Pietro trotted up to him...

Mesmero ignored him completely. Snapping his fingers in front of the telepath's face, Pietro realized he was seeing a memory.

So he followed the memory. Mesmero walked to the back of the cave, stopping at a monstrous stone door that went to the ceiling. The hunk of cowhide still on his shoulder, Mesmero reached into a pocket on his cloak and pulled out a fair-sized pendant suspended from a long chain. Pietro looked around him in time to see the golden chain be torn off, leaving only a circular, multicolored trinket. Each different color was a separate segment, each one locked into each other to form a sort of pie.

Mesmero inserted that pie into a circle in the door. The token completed the painting on the door, but more interesting, an area of the middle rose up and turned it into a dial. The mind reader turned that dial, matching colors up with others on the door as if it were some kind of archaic safe. Eventually, the door made a click.

__

Something told Pietro it would be in his best interest to back away when Mesmero did. Not long after, a violent white light seemed to split the door down the middle, and it pulled apart as two halves, the light growing stronger with each passing second until it abruptly blinked out.

The cavern was calm again. All seemed well. The door led into a simple chamber, it seemed, but none of the sunlight from the entrance dared reach in there.

For a moment, Pietro didn't get it. There was no apparent point to this; maybe Mesmero had been expecting an ancient treasure behind the mystical lock, maybe...

And then he heard it; a footfall on the stone, the echo coming from the newly opened chamber. Quicksilver shuddered; whatever Mesmero was remembering, it was dark. It was Evil.

__

Yet another shadowy figure appeared in the dark chamber. But this one didn't look human.

When the newcomer walked into the light, it revealed himself to be human after all... sort of. His face was blue,_ what Pietro could see of it. The entire rest of his eight-foot frame was covered in a freakish set of blue-tinted, segmented armor, the shapes and protrusions around him making him look like an Egyptian Pharaoh gone seriously wrong._

Mesmero was, in simple terms, mesmerized. A nervous smile painted his face, whereas the newcomer's smile was one of contentment and scheming. The telepath was still while the man approached.

Before he was halfway to Mesmero, Pietro watched as that strange armor suddenly became alive,_ each segment twisting around each other in tandem, a clattering noise sounding as it reshaped itself around the owner's body, as if by his _will_. In seconds, the image of the Pharaoh was gone, replaced instead by a blue haired man with sleek armor wrapped cleanly around his skin, no spot untouched save his neck and head. Only black highlights in the metal's pattern broke the color._

When he finally reached Mesmero, the telepath was too enamored to speak. So the newcomer broke the ice.

"You've brought what I asked."

It wasn't a question. Mesmero dropped to his knees and presented his other item to the man as if it were priceless. "Yes, Lord Apocalypse."

Apocalypse snatched the leather; Pietro could see now it was a trench coat that had _to be custom-made to fit the frame it was meant for._

The blue-clad man slipped it on without skipping a beat. "Get up."

Quicksilver could hear _it in his voice, the enjoyment at inspiring fear. It was like he didn't want his servant to bow because he _knew _Mesmero was frightened of his wrath anyway._

Mesmero was still while Apocalypse walked around him ever so slowly. "Yes... I can get used to the new-world," he commented. "Fashion has certainly improved... in some places. You've done quite well Mesmero, quite well..."

Mesmero seemed elated at the praise, the way an aspiring writer would feel if Stephen King mentioned he liked their work. 

"To think I can even find mutants grouped together for what I need here... this will be an interesting time," Apocalypse went on, almost coming full circle around his servant but putting an arm around his shoulder from the side. "Unfortunately..."

A flash of white light, and Pietro was back in the rain, somewhere secluded, near the park he'd been walking through. Very near.

Apocalypse finished his sentence after looking around into the air, as if he knew something or someone was around. "You will better accomplish your next task in death."

A snickt _and the sound of flesh being punctured reached Pietro's ears. Mesmero jumped, wide-eyed, a hand slowly traveling toward his chest... where a long metal thing like a _worm _was impaling him from behind. The object came from the bottom side of the blue man's wrist, wrapped sleekly down Mesmero's arm and then... moved to his back where it went through._

The first sound again... and the tendril pulled back into its owner with ungodly speed. Apocalypse turned and simply walked away while Mesmero clutched vainly at his mortal wound and started stumbling about. "Enjoy the void, Mesmero," Apocalypse called back as the distance grew. "You may rest now. For your loyalty I spare you a life in my _world."_

Pietro barely noticed his vision go dark again. This time, when he opened his eyes, he was back in the park... and Mesmero was dead at his feet.

---

"So... Yeahthat'saboutallofit."

"Mersmero would be a mutant, I assume," Mr. Sinister raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't budge. He didn't seem to mind the intense stares of nearly everyone in the room when he said the word 'mutant,' either. "He controlled minds?"

"He controlled minds," Xavier repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Controlled minds as opposed to reading them, he wasn't a strong telepath otherwise."

"That's clever... that's _very_ clever. Almost twenty years and the bastard hasn't changed at all." the odd man looked at the ceiling and rubbed his chin. "Get others to do your dirty work and no one knows you exist."

Still leaning against the wall, Wolverine rolled his eyes. "Can we _please_ get some _sleep_ now?"

"You can sleep all you want, I on the other hand, have work to do," Mr. Sinister commented, getting up and leaving as if he were never there. Everyone save Xavier stared at the door after him and blinked several times.

"I'll check his background just to be on the safe side," Xavier wheeled out from behind his desk. "For all I know, he can fool telepathy. But I believe Logan has a good idea, we could all probably use some sleep."

If anyone didn't agree, they didn't say anything as they left. Though Pietro had gone through a different door then the others before anyone else remembered he was there, Wolverine had never forgotten in the first place. "You didn't tell them about Quicksilver."

"No, I believe everyone's had enough shocks for one night. And it might be easier if they simply happen to notice he doesn't leave. I'm more worried about how the Brotherhood will react to his departure."

Logan finally sat down. "Eh. He'll probably be here for all of two days like Alvers was. He'll get over being shaken up by the weird stuff."

"I'm not so sure, Logan," Chares responded, his voice filled with grim certainly instead of the optimism he'd had when Lance had come that night. "If his encounter with Mesmero was his sole motivation for coming to us, I would agree with you, but... ah, what does it matter."

Logan didn't need telepathy to recognize Xavier's 'it's personal' tone before he went on.

"Besides, I think the day's other new addition will prove to be more... interesting. Especially considering Cerebro is now finding Magneto _here,_ not that it can see anywhere else for the moment after what Hank and I... tore out."

"Heh," Logan chuckled, grabbing something chocolate from a nearby candy jar. "Interesting to who, us or Shades?"

"I don't quite follow you," Charles arched an eyebrow.

Rolling his eyes, the other mutant answered, "Chuck, sometimes you really outta take a little peek or two. I, on the other hand, can't _help_ smelling certain things, thing's like Cyke's cologne _all over_ Magneto's groupie. I really should tell him to lay off that stuff... too easy to follow."

Xavier blinked at this implication. Hard. Logan, however, was not perturbed. "Same with the Half Pint and that weird perfume of hers too, the last thing they need is for someone like Sabretooth to get 'em alone in the woods... speaking of woods, you want me to hold off with the new kids and wait until things calm down?"

Sighing, Xavier pondered that. "No. The sooner they have their survival training, the better. Though it amuses me that they chose you over the camp."

"They just don't know me as well as the older kids."

Xavier could've sworn Logan was grinning.

"Just don't let anyone destroy the world while we're gone, Chuck."

---

Jean was thankful that school had been cancelled that morning; she had had no intention of pulling an all-nighter to do her homework after things had calmed down the night before.

She had, at first, planned to see if Scott had woken up yet and fill him in on what he'd missed. Walking down the corridor, however, brought about an interesting and rather unwelcome change of plans.

Always trying to restrain her abilities when they weren't needed, Jean often found that her lack of total control was a slightly larger problem then others might think. Sure, Scott could kill people with an inadvertent glance, but he just needed his glasses. Kurt was... well, blue, but he had his image inducer.

Jean, on the other hand, wasn't Xavier, and she still wasn't completely capable of filtering out meandering thoughts in big crowds, or really, _really_ strong thought broadcasting. Getting caught off-guard by the strong willed was always a horrible experience. People who felt something so powerfully that they broadcast it like a telepathic rock song; deafening and completely unavoidable.

And the wave of sheer anguish that was saturating the area like gas was no different. It wasn't horribly strong, but it was there, nonetheless.

Walking back the way she came was the first obvious solution. But then, that would be abandoning whoever it was this was coming from, and, depressing or not, it wouldn't feel right.

So she walked on. The corridor wasn't _that _long, and after she'd passed a certain door, the feeling lessened slightly instead of getting stronger. The source located, she tried to figure out who was inside; that was Evan's room, and Evan wasn't around at the moment. She made a mental note to ask one of the adults just _where_ Evan had been lately.

Seeing that the door was open a crack, Jean stepped up to it. She couldn't hear anything, so she gave it a gentle push.

Pietro Maximoff looked almost pathetic, hugging his knees to his chest while he leaned against the balcony of his room, his eyes closed as he snoozed. "Quicksilver?"

Started out of his light slumber, Pietro jumped. "Eh heh, must've dozed off."

His eyes were a little bloodshot. Had he been crying, she wondered? Suddenly she felt rather cruel for not even calling him his name, so used to meeting Quicksilver on the battlefield and not Pietro in a... more normal way, even if the Brotherhood had been increasingly less hostile since the soccer game incident.

The Bayville Sirens had certainly proved that. Oh, what a time that had been...

Coming back top the present, Jean realized the feeling she sensed was rapidly fading; maybe he'd been having one mother of a nightmare. He'd had his composure for quite awhile it seemed, but he wasn't over whatever was bothering him, not by a long shot.

"Are you alright?"

"OfcoursewhatmadeyouthinkIwasn't?" He answered, far too quickly even for Pietro. After a second, he cocked an eyebrow at her and put a finger to his head. "You sneaking around in here like Charles? Whatever could you be looking for?"

"I... what do you mean, 'like Charles?'" Jean gave him a look, finding it hard to believe the professor would invade his privacy.

"Oh, just... ya know, so he could see the Mesmero thing himself," he answered, finally stretching his legs out. And his thoughts were still freakishly loud; Jean knew he'd moved quite deliberately to stop looking vulnerable.

"Well, if you have to know," Jean leaned on the railing herself and stared at her feet. "Your mood is so loud I can hear it down the hallway... sorry."

"Sorry," he said, almost synchronized with her. "My 'mood?' Who are you, Counselor Troi?"

"Who?"

Pietro blanched. "Eh, never mind."

"You're staying with us, aren't you?" Jean spoke, the thought reaching her mouth before she realized it.

"Yeah. I've been trying to talk to Summers about it all week, but, well... I could never bring up the subject before we decided to smash each other. ShouldajustthrownmyselfatBaldy'smercyinthefirstplace."

Jean chuckled at that, and found her curiosity getting the better of her. "Do you mind if I ask..."

"I got sick of sitting around waiting for him... them anymore," he answered, already knowing what had her puzzled. Jean raised an eyebrow. "Mystique and my father, I mean... I'm sick of waiting for him... I'm tired of being treated like I don't exist... and then Mystique, she finally comes back and she brings my... she brings that damned witch in like nothing and she wants to _attack_ him..."

"Your father?" Jean asked instinctively, having no idea Pietro's father was anywhere around in the first place, much less part of the Brotherhood. She left the witch topic alone, Pietro hadn't given any clues about why she mattered so much.

He looked at her like she'd turned green. "Rogue never said anything? _Xavier_ never said anything?"

Slowly, she shook her head and wondered what Rogue had to do with it.

"You guys _don't know?_" He chuckled.

Again, Jean shook her head while she tried to think. It came to her, of course, that Rogue had touched him before, more then enough to get quite a few memories. _Mystique and his father... Mystique and... Mystique only worked with Magneto with the Brother... hood... _"Oh, my..."

"Yepstoryofmylife," he answered. "My father's a big refrigerator magnet. And Mystique wants us to attack him but... but... he's still my father. So those are my choices; my non-existent father or my dangerously psychotic... never mind. But I chose. Huh... you know, Rogue must have a lot going through her mind that she never even talks about."

"Rogue doesn't give away peoples' secrets. I just realized she probably has a few of mine too," Jean said. Her face fell a little at the thought of her friend.

Pietro noticed. "She'll be fine," he said, "girl's stubborn as Hell. I mean, really, why _else _would she keep drooling over one-eye? The single most unavailable guy in _so_ many ways?" Jean gave him a look, and then Pietro returned it. "Waitaminute, thatmakesnosense, she's touched you _and _him before, I mean, how did she _not _know he wasn't interested?"

"Are we talking about what I _think_ we're talking about?" Jean retaliated, completely caught off guard by the tangent the conversation had gone. Pietro hopped to his feet while he nodded, and Jean couldn't help but notice how quickly he looked like normal Pietro again. The idea of causing mischief certainly rejuvenated him. "And how do _you _know?"

"Uh uh, you first," he waved a finger in her face.

"I don't have a clue," she chuckled and leaned on the wall. "Maybe since Scott doesn't exactly 'know' himself, I don't know either. And she wouldn't know from touching him for the same reason. I just suspect things and try to get him to talk about it every now and then. Make any sense?"

He stared at her for a moment and shook his head. "No... ButI'lltakeyourwordforit."

And then Quicksilver started laughing. In fact, he laughed so much that Jean was afraid he was having a nervous breakdown. "Oh, he knows now though," he finally said after calming down.

Confused, she asked, "and you know he knows, how?"

"I think I 'know' I'm getting a headache, enough with people knowing things already."

Muffled laughter reached their ears. "Scott's room is the next one down?"

"Yep," Jean asked, remembering that fact herself. "Sounds like he isn't alone. Guess he's awake."

"That would be how I know, by the way."

"Excuse me?"

"You are not, in fact, excused," Pietro chuckled. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into the hallway, though Jean only followed because she didn't feel like prying him off.

He leaned over to look through Scott's quite open door, Jean looking past him.

Scott and Joseph were leaning over the balcony, looking over the grounds. "Wonder who was laughing... sounded like Pietro."

Quicksilver frowned. "Bad enough he looks like my dad... ugh, what an image."

Jean decided to keep her mouth shut on that topic.

"Wonder why he's still around," Scott added, Joseph wrapping an arm around his waist. "Then again... the only possible explanation frightens me."

"Think he's staying?"

"Next he'll ask, 'is that a good thing or a bad thing,'" Pietro rolled his eyes. _Not like I have anywhere else to go..._

Jean just shook her head. "This is worse then a soap opera."

"Worse then Titanic," he corrected, wishing again for that picture.

"Are you?" They could hear Scott ask back.

"Yeah," Joseph smiled.

Jean felt an involuntary worry creep over her when she heard that, and she felt guilty for it. _He really _does_ look like Magneto..._

"As long as the beds are more comfortable then the floor... I can't believe we fell asleep on the floor..."

"Well, that's something I can guarantee you," Scott answered, running a hand through Joseph's white hair.

"I wonder if they realize how wrong that sounded. WelloooookaythenIthinkthatprovesmypoint," Pietro once again pulled on Jean, this time to an ample distance away from the door when Scott pulled Joseph close and kissed him. "You'dthinkthey'dclosethefreakindooralready!"

"Well they probably will after they hear your babbling nonsense," she answered. "I mean, I'm not gonna pretend to stand here and make out with you so they don't know we were spying. Good night Pietro."

He watched her walk away a bit incredulously, thinking about that, not really realizing what he mumbled. "Huh... why would we have to pretend?"

__

Pietro.

"Wahhh!" Pietro tripped and slumped against the wall before he realized what was happening. "Oh maaaan, I'm never gonna get used to that..."

__

Yes, I try to keep the mental traffic down, I shouldn't be giving you all heart attacks, after all, Xavier's voice continued in his mind. _Sometime this morning I'd like you to head down to the machine shop in the basement, I'm sure you can find something there to take your mind off of your troubles._

"Um... sure... whatever," Pietro finally relaxed. He stood up and dusted himself off as Scott walked out of his door and looked down the hallway.

"What's with the _noise_, Maximoff?"

"Oh," Pietro didn't skip a beat, simply raising a hand and pointing his thumb to the corridor behind him. "That's your boyfriend echoing in the halls. You must be quite the animal."

"I'm going to pretend I _didn't _hear that!" Totally scandalized, Scott turned a slight shade of red.

For a second, Pietro opened his mouth to say something pertaining to Scott's well-developed ability to 'pretend' and cite examples such as Taryn, but he decided he had just enough tact not to and became content with letting out a chuckle.

The older mutant sighed. "What's so funny?"

"Heh heh, you." Quicksilver answered, hopping to his feet. "Don'ttakethisthewrongway, wellyoucanifyouwantto, but you're _so_ _cliché_, Summers, that it's just hilarious."

"I'm flattered," Cyclops answered, his voice humiliatingly dry.

"And you've always beensopredictabletoo!" Pietro went on, buzzing around Scott once or twice. "Why, I bet you're dragging him to the Danger Room in less then ten minutes just 'because!'"

"Well, yeah," Scott started, the grin he usually wore when on a Danger Room high suddenly fading into a scowl when he realized he'd just been zinged.

The speed demon sighed. "Irestmycase."

---

Edward Kelly often wondered what he'd done to deserve... this. Bayville High was the death of sanity if there ever was one. He really didn't know. Sure, he'd done his normal share of misdeeds as a teenager, and there _was_ that time he almost slept with a married woman, but he'd done the right thing and hauled ass away when she'd mentioned it.

So really, he _didn't_ deserve this. Not one bit. All he wanted was a good job, maybe to get into politics in his later years. Was that too much to ask? Apparently it was.

Along with his good job he also received weirdo kids who could do things like destroy things by looking at them, create earthquakes, vanish into thin air... it didn't help that no one else even _remembered_ it, either. He'd been expecting reporters and police and whatnot the very day after that soccer game, but there was nothing. No one _knew._

Except for one Edward Kelly. And now, Principle Kelly had the task of hiring another faculty member with the school's budget already stretched thin, a vice-principle. A _vice-principle,_ as if _he_ couldn't handle things on his own! He'd only handled the freaks of nature and demons from Hell invading his gym. Not that the school board knew that. No, they had just said 'hire a vice-principle so your students don't get rowdy.' Like a vice-principle could have stopped the water main from being bombed?

At least his office was dry. At least he had a place to actually interview the first, and so far only prospective employee interested in the position. At least the building was _quiet_ for once, save for the maintenance workers.

When a knock came on his door, he sighed. "Come in."

He turned around, and immediately thought, _if his job is to enforce discipline, all the kids need to do is look at him. _"Mr. Gyrich? Pleasure to finally meet you."

"And you, Principle Kelly. You know, I hear you have a few problems with certain... 'gifted' children at this school..."

---

"This is so _wretchedly annoying._ Bastard's right at my fingertips and all I have is the same, decades-old data. Forge, any coffee left?"

Kitty, Joseph and Pietro walked into the workshop only to be assaulted by completely ridiculous amounts of printer paper flying in their direction, apparently being tossed from the center. At the same time, a cart topped with several half-

Unfortunately, while Kitty let it phase through her, the boys had no such luxury and quickly became tangled in the stuff as every single document was printed on old, attached sprocket paper and none of the sheets had been separated.

This made things even worse for Pietro, who tried to get out of it with his speed, but ended up falling on his face, wrapped in it. "Mmmmphh!"

"Uh, like, hi Forge."

Turning off his welding torch, Forge flipped up his faceplate and smiled, his arm returning to 'normal.' "Hey Kitty. What's goin' on?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing..."

"Help?" Pietro squeaked, his head poking out through the blob of dead tree.

"Don't fuck up the documents, damnit!"

Mr. Sinister was not amused.

"Oh yeah. Guys," Forge looked up again, "Have you met Sinister?"

"That's **Mister** Sinister, thank you," the scientist added. And then he was up stalking over to Pietro, where he promptly grabbed the end of the document chain, pulled, rolled him into the wall, and tossed the pile of papers in another direction as if he didn't care in the first place. With that done, he plopped back into his chair, kicked off and spun around like a fool while his fingers twirled a pen around. "Hey Forge, how's it goin' over there?"

As if on cue, the thing Forge was working on exploded in the engineer's face, covering him with soot. He pulled his faceplate off and took a break, just as Logan made an entrance. "Oh, just lovely."

"Clown man. Rogue?" Logan was dressed for the wilderness, apparently making a few last stops before taking the younger mutants out.

"What about Rogue?"

Logan glared death. "Did you not say you could help Rogue or am I going deaf?"

"Yes, I said I could help Rogue," Sinister shouted, clearly angered at Logan's blithe disregard for procedure. "When I get a fucking sample of DNA from Apocalypse! Do you see a DNA sample around here? No? Gee, I don't either! Go bug Xavier to get faster computers if it's not quick enough."

Clearly, it was taking all of Logan's willpower not to slice his arm off. Either that, or Xavier was just that convincing when he said Mr. Sinister could help. Logan just rolled his eyes and shook his head, apparently considering everything and coming to the conclusion that it was just barely a valid excuse before he left.

"Some people just don't need mutations to be freaks," Sinister commented. He spun in his chair again and stopped to raise fingers at Pietro and Joseph. "So, you and you, I need blood samples!"

"You need _what?_" Joseph blinked. Pietro screamed not long after, as Beast had sneaked up on him with another syringe.

"Self-disinfecting syringes are wonderful things," the furry mutant commented as Pietro started running around the room in circles, saying words he really shouldn't have. "But then again, so is knowing how to do that without tying one's arm off."

A chortle came from Sinister. "God I love this place, an engineer and chemist in the same lab as me, what more could I want... oh, _your_ help!"

"Like... my help?" Kitty blinked.

"Yes, your help. You're the programming wiz, right?"

"I am?" Kitty raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm not the best in the class, but..."

"But you're good, and anyone that's a legend for frying three computers is better then me, so c'mere and tell me what I'm doing wrong."

"Like... okay..."

---

"You know Scott... everywhere we go we seem to revolve back around to your room. Why not my room? Why not _outside?_ People are going to think we're a pair of bunnies at this rate."

"My room's closer to the Danger Room."

"Right. Remind me never to go in there again?" Joseph rubbed at his jaw.

"Are you kidding? Training sessions are daily!" Scott grinned like an idiot.

Joseph groaned. "And I just went in there of my own free will when I'll be getting my fill of it starting tomorrow?"

"Yep!"

"I'm getting a headache."

"Wimp, I've been aching everywhere since we got out of there," Scott sat down on his bed, prompting a distinct cracking sound to come from his shoulder. He winced, "that can't have been good."

He dropped the next words from his mouth when Joseph slid to his side. Scott let out a relaxed sigh when he felt the other mutant's hands slide up his shirt and rub his shoulders. "I could get used to this..."

"Maybe I found my secret talent."

"Ow!" Scott cried.

Joseph snickered. "And maybe not."

"You did that on purpose! Ow!"

"You're right, I did."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Note to self, never forget uniform with its nice, kinda-protective armor again."

"Your uniform has armor?" Joseph was curious; he hadn't gotten a uniform yet, and the idea of customizing it was intriguing.

Leaning back into his massage, Scott chuckled. "Of course. _Something_ has to say 'I'm the leader,' you know."

"So the enemy knows who to kill first?"

"Yeah... _what?_" Scott exclaimed.

"Fortunately, you have me to rush in and save you." 

"My knight in shining armor?" Scott threw an arm around his boyfriend and tackled him backward.

"I'm confused, I thought _you_ were the one that had armor..."

Joseph smiled like an idiot, trying to tug away from being half-buried under Scott. "You know, my arm is going numb."

"Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?"

Joseph _hmmphed,_ and Scott didn't move. "You know, make an excellent pillow."

"Now you're just getting annoying, you know that?"

"Annoying? No, annoying is Pietro singing 'Scott and Joe sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g.'"

"He _sang_ that?" Joseph made a face.

Scott laughed. "No, but I'm sure he will."

"Yeah, so am I," the other answered. Determined to put an end to Scott's little game, Joseph pulled his arm in a different direction and forced himself out from under Scott's head. His hand still being under it, he managed to pull Scott's shirt over his head and cover his face in the process, just after swiping his shades.

"Hey!" Scott bolted up and almost fell over, yanking his shirt the rest of the way off on the way. 

Keeping his eyes shut, Scott stretched out an arm and searched around. "So, couldn't wait to get my shirt off again, huh?"

Joseph stood up and sneaked around his now-blinded significant other. "What, like I mind the view? You know, I seem to remember you being in this situation before, you haven't improved much since then."

Scott followed his voice and tackled him back to the bed as soon as he moved to just the right place. "Give 'em up, Joe," he snickered.

"Or what, you'll take _my_ shirt off?" Joseph retorted. Nevertheless, he took Scott's hand and gave him his shades.

"You'd like it too much," Scott insisted, putting his glasses back on.

Joseph merely grinned and wrapped his arms around Scott's back. "I like _this_ too much."

"I'm not dignifying that with a response," Scott smirked and kept him pinned. "And frankly, I'm getting sick of being the one that always loses his clothes. I need _some_ reason to keep my eye open."

"But I'd much rather look at _you,_ you're the muscle in this relationship, I'm just the brains."

"You know," Scott pondered, "I just realized my door isn't locked, and the idea of someone walking in right now is almost as scary as the idea of you having a brain."

Rather then making some sort of comeback, Joseph raised a hand from Scott's back, and the sound of a lock turning reached their ears. "Not so scary anymore, is it?"

"No," Scott answered him, his voice lower.

Joseph didn't say anything back this time, and Scott held the silence.

"Why do I _know_ you're looking me in the eye?" Joseph wondered.

Scott didn't budge. "You want the long, dramatic answer, or the easy one?"

"The easy one," he said back.

"Because I am."

Joseph pulled him closer, and Scott kissed him. They both closed their eyes just in time to miss Kitty's head phasing through the wall again. They also missed her hand phasing through so she could bite down on it and keep from saying something before she vanished back into the next room.

Scott didn't even come up for air, he went right down to Joseph's neck. His eyes shot open when he realized his belt was coming undone a second later.

Except this time, he'd caught a glimpse of Kitty's head coming through the wall. At least, he thought he did; a part of him refused to believe that she was... nah. She couldn't. She _wouldn't. _But it did the job of bringing him back to reality.

"Scott... stop."

---

Pietro wondered how he'd ended up an innocent bystander in this... situation. It was really quite a horrible situation.

It was all Jean's fault. The girl just wasn't innocent when she didn't _want_ to be, the Bayville Sirens had certainly proved that. Her innocence, apparently, tended to wane only in certain situations: when someone needed a discreet kind of help, when there was gossip interesting enough to warrant being nosy, and when she wanted to see how someone she cared about was doing.

The problem here was that this scene of horror classified itself under not only the second, but the third of those conditions as well. Pietro hadn't wanted to know why Jean had barged into his room with Kitty on her heals. He hadn't wanted to know why she'd been so into her mindset that she didn't notice him for several seconds.

Of course, he had told her he didn't mind the use of his room. That had been his big mistake.

And then Kitty had said, "Like, I can't _believe_ I'm doing this."

It was around that time that Pietro had noticed Jean was holding an ear to the wall.

"So _why_ are we like, in this room?"

"So we could spy on people," Jean shrugged.

"Like, Jean, when'd _you_ get interested in gossip?" Kitty blinked.

Jean's lips curved into a smile of pure evil. "Since the gossip was this juicy."

Spurred on by this, Kitty proceeded to stick her head through the wall. Two seconds later, she pulled back and looked Jean with such huge eyes that Pietro thought they would explode.

However, that was the only amount of questioning Jean received from her. Because the telekinetic was right; this _was_ juicy gossip, and Kitty promptly resumed her blatant invasion of privacy.

Again, it wasn't long before she pulled back, and this time with a report. "Whoa-ho, like, Scott's shirt just came off!"

"And?" Jean encouraged after a second.

Pietro almost went into cardiac arrest. "Ohhmygaawwwwwd..." Kitty went back, and Pietro proceeded to cover his ears. "I'm _not_ hearing this..."

"Someone's belt just got out of the way," was Kitty's next bit of information.

Jean became distracted when Pietro, his ears still covered and his eyes now closed, started shouting something along the lines of "Laaaa la la lalalala la la **lalalalalaaaaaaaa!**"

Kitty went back but came out instantly this time. "Oops... I think I got, like, busted..."

Jean's face fell. It fell more when Pietro, who truly _couldn't_ hear her words anymore, only that she was talking, assumed the worst and kept his mantra up. "_I'm not hearing this **LA LA LAAAAALALALALAAAALA!**_"

Jean forced his jaws shut, prompting Pietro to start hopping around, pulling at his chin and mumbling things that, fortunately, were inaudible.

"Um, Jean," Kitty piped up, "Shouldn't we like, run?"

"Good idea!"

Pietro watched Jean take hold of Kitty's arm as they walked into the closet on the opposite wall, phasing out through the other side.

Jabbing his finger rather uselessly at that closet, Pietro felt Jean's telekinesis let go and shouted the first thing that came to mind. "You guys are sick, you know that!"

And from the wall Kitty had been sticking her head through came a _thump,_ and then Scott's muffled voice. "Mind your own damn business, Maximoff!"

__

Oops, maybe I should've said 'girls.'

He stood there for a few seconds, staring blankly at the wall, at a total loss while he struggled to process the sheer absurdity of what had just happened. "Of all the mansions in the world, I have to move into the one where the adults are Nazi teachers, every single TV has a V-Chip, and closets are used in _very _disturbing ways."

Pietro's face fell. It was just too much.

So he decided to go running. And he ran away _very_ quickly.

---

Scott felt like his fist was stuck to the wall. Pietro's shouting had been a... convenient distraction, despite the fact that they hadn't even been making any noise he could have heard. Pietro making no sense whatsoever wasn't knew.

But now, the distraction was over. And he had no idea what to say. Joseph hadn't moved, and Scott had only done so because staying on _top_ of him would've been more then a little awkward.

"Is he always that strange?"

"You got me, he's been living here about as long as you've been..."

He didn't want to admit it, but Scott was glad Joseph had said something first. He hadn't had a clue what to say, short of begging for forgiveness for going too far. Again.

Not that anything was resolved. "Hey Scott?"

"Yeah?"

Joseph still didn't move. "Are you mad at me?"

"Are you kidding?" Scott responded, his mouth giving off the rather sudden thought before he realized it. "Why _would_ I be? Joe, we seem to be going in circles here, I cross a line and then _you_ hate yourself for it. Can we stop that?"

"_Some_ guys would be happy if their boyfriend kept all the emotional baggage for themselves," Joseph laughed, finally sitting up. His face turned neutral again after a few seconds. "You know, you're not the only hormonally driven teenage male in this room, but..."

"But?" Scott prodded.

"Hey, that's it, isn't it?" Joseph smiled all of a sudden, leaving quite a cliffhanger.

"But what?" Scott demanded, his demeanor turning a bit incredulous..

And Joseph took great pleasure in completely ignoring it. "Promise not to get mad at me when I say this?"

"The fact that you _said_ that worries me to no end," Scott gave up and pretended to think about it, "so, no."

"Very funny," the other deadpanned. "I'm going to say it anyway; you can't stand losing control of yourself."

"I can too!" Scott huffed, vaguely kicking at the floor before his face fell in resignation. "Okay, so I can't."

"Yeah, I know the feeling...

"I kind of... left something out, played on words... well, blatantly lied."

"Huh?" Scott blinked behind his glasses, unprepared for the sudden, apparent topic change. Off hand, he couldn't even remember anything Joseph _could've_ lied about.

"Remember, I said I hadn't had a relationship before? I kind of... have. Sort of."

"Oh," Scott answered.

"More then once, actually..."

"Oh," Scott answered. He'd actually been expecting much worse, and he couldn't help but find Joe's worry to be amusing. "So?"

"Uh, it gets better," Joseph stared at the wall rather suddenly. "I've kinda been... where we were about to go... before. Quite a few times, actually..."

__

That caught Scott off guard. "Oh."

"Would you shut up and at least get mad already?" Joseph snapped, the repetition getting on his nerves before he realized it. "Sorry..."

"Well, look on the bright side," Scott answered. He wasn't mad at all, he honestly didn't wonder what the big deal was, Joseph's past was his own business as far as he was concerned. But he wasn't about to get into a morale debate on the issue of talking about sex. "You've single handedly doubled my ego with the idea that I'm just special enough to warrant waiting until the right time."

"Oh, what have I done," Joseph smiled. "You'd be surprised how important the 'right time' is when you've never had anything besides a few, ah, purely physical relationships."

"I won't ask," Scott deadpanned.

---

"So, like, a lot of the functions here were way off, but I fixed those up, and then some of those, like, variables that have to do with his armor made _no_ sense but I fixed those too and didn't touch the actual blocks of data cause I, like, _suck_ in Science and I have no idea what they mean... but I think it'll like, work now!"

"Tired. Sleep." Mr. Sinister's head rose an inch from the table, and went back down for a moment before he shot into conciousness. "It's _fixed?_ It took me three months to write what I had and you fixed it... in one morning_?_"

"Basically," Kitty looked at the ceiling, lost in thought, "like, yeah!"

"And you say you're _not_ the best in your class?"

Kitty just shrugged, smiled and walked away

Forge rubbed at his eyes, having long fallen asleep from boredom. Then he sniffed the air, not unlike Logan would do. "Is that... food?"

Sinister hadn't noticed, but Beast had come back, and had done them a rather genourous favor by bringing their lunch to them. "Yes, I thought you both would like some measure of sustenance after your..."

"Gimmie!"

Before Beast's eyes, Forge almost tackled him. To be more precise, he tackled the tray easily balanced on one hand. Eagerly grabbing one of the very large plates and a fork, Forge almost leapt back to his workbench and dug in.

Sinister, on the other hand, was content to let Beast set his plate on a nearby table as he planted himself in his chair and turned the monitor to his main workstation back on. "It _works! _Now all I need is a larger search area..."

"Oh, I already took care of that," Hank mentioned. "You should find that there is a GPS sattelite over this hemisphere that is... ready and willing to provide its assistance."

"Really? I need a few more PhDs, you people are humbling me at every turn. Now, lessie," the scientist tapped a few keys, changing the display before he grabbed the comm. unit Xavier had given him. "He's in Idaho. It really _is_ that simple... what could he _possibly _want there..."

"Maybe he likes potatoes," Forge shrugged.

"Hmm, a reasonably well populated area as well," Hank looked at the display over Sinister's shoulder. "It would seem I'm sitting this one out."

"Well at least everyone here'll have _some _adultsupervision," Sinister chuckled. He fished around his desk for a sizable PDA and, checking the remote link between it and the desktop system, bolted out of his chair and the room.

Two seconds later, he ran back into the machine shop. "Oh hey, Forge, did you finish it?"

"Did I finish, he asks," Forge grinned. The mechanic flung a sheet off of the table and grabbed for the object he had made in the night, tossing it to Sinister.

"Genius, Forge. Genius," Sinister slipped it under his belt at the small of his back, hidden beneath his coat.

---

Another conversation was progressing while Sinister made his way out. The Blackbird served as a backdrop for Cyclops and Professor X.

"This isn't going to be the easiest of situations, Scott."

"Yeah, tell me about it, Professor," Scott chuckled, absent-mindedly rubbing a spot on his side that was still sore from his... encounter with Apocalypse. "Mr. McCoy isn't coming this time, I guess?"

"No, the area has too many people and we want to keep a low profile, hence why you're foregoing the uniforms this time," Charles steepled his fingers and sighed. "And you're probably going to want to kill me for this, but I'm afraid Mr. Sinister is going with you."

"Mister Who?" Scott blinked.

Making a face, Xavier answered, "I'm sorry, you haven't met him yet... you will shortly, obviously. It might be more appropriate to say you're going with _him_ rather then vice-versa, though truthfully, I haven't figured out if I refuse to let him go alone because I don't trust him or because I don't trust him to not get killed."

"What's the team?"

"Yourself, Kurt, Kitty and Pietro."

"Quicksilver?" Scott's face fell before he could catch himself from sounding dismayed.

"I realize you're not thrilled with his presence here, Scott, but he's... been through a lot. I hope you'll give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Yeah, I still don't trust him," Scott concluded.

Five seconds later, the far door opened and Pietro ran into the room, zoomed around Scott a few times to annoy him, and stopped on a dime between the two. "Your mondo extraordinary supercalifragolisticexpialidocious Quicksilver has arrived. Thank you."

Pietro took a bow. Scott almost shot an 'I'm-developing-a-sudden-headache' look to Xavier, but he looked Pietro over instead. "Pietro?"

"Yeah?"

"No uniforms," Cyclops told him, mustering the blandest voice he could.

Blinking a few times, Quicksilver looked down at his homemade, streamlined, silver uniform he opted to wear rather then the standard X-Men black. The thought of Lance in one of those things had been too much. "Oh. Oops."

With that, he zoomed out again.

"Professor," Scott begged through gritted teeth. Xavier chuckled under his breath as, in the meantime, Quicksilver again blazed into the hanger and, this time leaving after-images of his preferred normal clothes, dashed right into the jet.

The unmistakable sound of Kurt teleporting in behind him prompted Scott to turn around. He wasn't entirely sure his visor hadn't suddenly gone off the deep end. The scientist with his hand on Kurt's shoulder was just that bad.

Mr. Sinister didn't look amused. "I hope you appreciate this."

"I hope _you_ will."

"Just remember, my friend," the clown held up a finger, "I warned you that this was a bad idea, it's not my fault if they don't come back alive."

Kurt scratched his head as he watched the oddball climb into the jet. "He's kinda pessimistic."

Scott was too busy paying attention to the scientist as he entered the jet. He could swear the sparkle of red under his coat was... no, it couldn't have been. But it was food for thought, filling enough for Scott to barely register Kitty phasing through the wall and into the jet.

---

"Why is he on a college campus in Idaho?" Scott asked, still slightly miffed that Mr. Sinister had blatantly stolen the pilot's seat from him.

"If I knew, I'd say," the scientist answered, keeping one hand on the controls and looking at his PDA with the other, the small moving dot almost having a hypnotic effect. "I haven't said 'cause I don't know."

"And why are _we_ following him there?"

"I need a sample of his DNA to help your friend," Sinister answered, shoving his little computer back into his pocket. "Which means, basically, I knock him down, you all hold him down, I shove a needle in his head. Cranial fluid would be nice too, but not the top priority."

Scott wasn't going to pretend that he cared for Mr. Sinister's attitude after the short while he'd already spent... in his presence as they flew for their destination. Quicksilver, on the other hand, didn't really care about such things. "SohowlongtillwegettherealreadyI'mgettingimpatientIcould'verantherefaster!"

"Quicksilver, stop complaining," Kurt chided him, "just enjoy the ride, we might all be bruised and broken for the trip home."

"Like, yeah," Kitty chuckled, "listen to Nightcrawler, if you're gonna get sick like Lance you better like, do it now!"

"No codenames this trip, guys," Scott called back, taking the moment to replace his shades with his visor. Kurt flipped on his image inducer.

"A guy wearing a big Star Trek prop, me, and another guy in blue armor, yeah, we'll be _real_ inconspicuous," Mr. Sinister added.

"Can we _try_ to be a little optimistic, here," Scott insisted, getting more then a little annoyed every time the scientist insisted on smashing morale somehow.

Mr. Sinister merely chuckled.

---

Jerry wasn't quite used to his new job yet. It was boring, as most jobs were, but at least it was on campus. Still, he never imagined himself as a security guard, least of all, a security guard a museum, certainly not the weapons and armor museum at his college.

But it was work, and it wasn't really _hard_ work. Jerry doubted anyone would ever steal anything from this place, as cool as some of the weapons were.

But that didn't mean he should slack off. Least of all when he heard a clanging noise in one of the storage closets. So Jerry did the logical thing and checked it out.

Unfortunately, he had no idea that the supposed intruder was not only real, but baiting him as well. He opened the door, and never saw it coming when a very _large_ man in a trench coat grabbed him, pulled him into the closet, and snapped his neck.

"Such a delightful waste of human life," Apocalypse commented to himself as he tossed the corpse to the closet's wall and shut the door, his eyes starting to scan over the various bladed weapons in the gallery.

And then a poof of smoke in one of the doorways heralded Kurt's arrival, with Scott holding onto his shoulder.

Kurt vanished and reappeared a second later, this time with Kitty and Pietro in front of a display case. He teleported away once more, and Apocalypse turned around when he heard the mutant _bamf_ in behind him... with Mr. Sinister. 

The immortal smiled, looking right at the scientist. "Well, well, well. Long time no mind-read, Mr. Essex."

"No, you _killed_ Essex," Sinister growled, "after your burnt his face off. What are you after _now?_ Caesar's DNA on a bloody sword?"

Cyclops' eyes went wide behind his visor, and the others didn't make a move. He vaguely thought that he would've liked to have been informed the clown and the crazy _knew_ each other. This certainly changed a few things; old grudges were dangerous in combat, and Sinister sounded like he had one to the point of calling it a blood oath.

"Oh, something far better," Apocalypse answered, his human disguise giving way to blue skin and shining armor under his coat. He turned and glanced around at the mutants surrounding him. "I suppose you think you're all going to stop me. Hmm... no."

Not even bothering to look, Apocalypse raised an arm to one side. For a second, the sound of his armor changing resonated from under his sleeve, but after that, a blast that Scott remembered well shot out in Kurt's direction.

Kurt, however, had quicker reflexes, and he 'ported away just in time. Mr. Sinister didn't budge, even when the display case behind him shattered. "That's called vandalism."

"Is it now?" Apocalypse chuckled, "I'll show you vandalism!"

This time, something else came from the immortal's arm; with a sound like that of a sword being drawn, a long, gray-metal tendril shot out from the bottom of his wrist. The appendage curled around a bit and then lashed out toward the scientist while the X-Men watched, fascinated and horrified at the same time. Scott almost wished Joseph had come, his powers probably could've stopped _that,_ at least.

That wish didn't last when Mr. Sinister dashed away and the tendril made a hole in the wall like it was piercing butter. But the scientist was proving to be far more then a nerd; he went right for Apocalypse and, reaching him, grabbed for something at his belt.

Sinister had been carrying nunchucks at his back, covered by his coat, and he gladly attacked his target with it. The weapon was made of metal, but the ends were tipped with something red; something unmistakable.

Mr. Sinister was wielding Gems of Cytorrak. And when one of those ends hit Apocalypse head on, there was a small flash of light and a grunt of actual, true _pain_ from the armored warrior as he staggered back.

Sinister pressed his attack, the grace and style he displayed showing that he obviously knew how to fight. Apocalypse was humbled every time he landed a blow, until his back hit the wall. But it wasn't to last. Now over the surprise, Apocalypse reached an arm out and blocked the next blow, before shoving Sinister to the floor and halfway across the room with a simple push.

"I'm not _even_ going to ask where you found those," he bellowed, stomping toward his enemy. The smash of an optic blast from Scott against his side caught his attention, and he turned.

Scott blasted him again, still with no effect.

"We've been here before, boy," Apocalypse intoned. "And you don't have your friend to grab me this time."

"Who says I need her?" Scott fired one more time, catching Apocalypse completely off guard. For all his bravado, he had one small weak point, and Scott had figured it out. The immortal jumped back when the beam hit him square in the eyes and, while it didn't hurt, the light was more then enough to blind him for the moment.

Sinister took the opportunity to spring off his feet and _dive_ at him, planting the ends of his weapon into the much larger man's temple.

Apocalypse didn't only fall, he actually _bled_ where the scientist had slammed him. "Hold him down! _Hold him_ _down!_"

Apocalypse was _not_ amused, and it was obvious that he would have already pushed Mr. Sinister away if he hadn't been trying to reach a hand around to rub at his eyes. Upon seeing the geneticist, small and frail compared to the massive armored warrior, attempting to hold down his query while grabbing a somewhat large syringe from his pocket, Scott and Pietro dashed over and held down one his arms. Once Kitty got her hands on the lashing tendril, she forced it to phase through the others when it whipped around at them, carrying her along for the ride.

Kitty went through another display and then the wall when she lost her grip. But Mr. Sinister had already pulled the cap from his syringe and jammed his needle into his "patient's" jugular; he was getting blood already. With his other hand he managed to, with uncanny precision, shove another needle, made of adamantium, into Apocalypse's head and get the clear cranial fluid he'd wanted.

Apocalypse was still far from amused. Coming down from his anger high and thinking rationally again, he flung the children off his arm and wrapped the tendril around Sinister's ankle. Before the scientist went flying, however, he'd managed to get what he needed. The needles broke off the syringes, he'd had to yank them so fast, but he didn't care. The liquids inside were all he needed, and he promptly shoved the capsules into a small metal case for protection before they went into his pocket.

That accomplished, he held his weapon in a defensive stance while Apocalypse stood, a bit miffed as if the entire experience had been more embarrassing then painful. Plucking the metal from his skin and tossing it away without a care, he looked around once more.

Completely ignoring the X-Men, Apocalypse let his eyes wander over the scattered exhibits, paying special attention to the swords. Before long, his eyes lit up and he strode toward a pile of relics that had been knocked down.

And then Kitty phased halfway through the wall, grabbed the sword he was reaching for, stuck her tongue out at him, and phased back.

"You _bitch!_" Apocalypse shouted. Enraged, he ran _into_ the wall and knocked it over rather then teleport to the other side. Having not expected _that,_ Kitty stared at him from the other room, the heavy blade swung over her shoulder.

"Like, bad idea..."

"I'll say," Apocalypse snarled, his nostrils flaring as he stalked toward her. He raised his other arm and another tendril shot into the air, curled around itself and hurled at Kitty. So caught off guard at being attacked by such a bizarre weapon, Kitty completely forgot that she could let it pass through her and, dropping the heavy sword, dived out of the way.

The metal whip lashed out and crashed into another display instead of her face, scattering even more ancient weapons around and knocking over an Egyptian sarcophagus they had been sorted around.

And then Kurt 'ported over to it, put a hand on the blade, smiled, called out, "thanks!" and _bamfed_ away with the weapon.

"Mutants," Apocalypse grunted in frustration. Kurt hadn't gone far, back to the others, and Apocalypse fully intended to get the item he'd come for. "Foolish mortals..."

Rather then running after them again, Apocalypse turned and stared intently. He concentrated... and then he blinked before shouting around to the air. "That's a clever trick, Xavier! You've gotten better since last time!"

Sinister took note of the fact that Apocalypse had limits after all; had the immortal's telepathy been absolute, he would have known that Professor Xavier was halfway across the country at the Institute, using technology to augment his powers and provide a block.

Taking the chance to toss a few remarks, Pietro dashed around their opponent a few times. "What, can't fight like a man?" He dashed a few steps away when Apocalypse tried to blast him. "Too much mind for your own good, Braniac?"

"Too much indeed, Rodent," Apocalypse glared, "something you certainly wouldn't have experience in."

But he didn't move. Pietro, a cocky grin on his face as always, decided to try and stare him down.

He didn't see the metal appendage that Apocalypse controlled slithering on the floor, still laid out. Without a sound to tip the speed demon off, the tendril flew into the air and wrapped around Pietro, bounding his arms and legs and pulling him to Apocalypse 

Pietro opened his mouth to say something, but everything happened so fast, even for him, that he couldn't get a word out. When he finally remembered to inhale, Apocalypse had released his appendage and wrapped a massive, armored hand around the speed demon's throat.

Pietro froze, his face no more then an inch from his captor's, Apocalypse holding his shorter form up off of the ground and staring unblinkingly, almost burning holes in the mutant's retinas.

"Hmmm. If I see fear in _your_ eyes, I wonder what you see in _mine._ _This_ will be interesting."

Pietro grabbed at his arm and struggled, trying desperately to breath, but Apocalypse merely held him off to the side, squeezing harder as he looked up and surveyed the scene. Kurt looked like he was about to teleport and _bamf_ the speed demon away. Kitty was still, waiting for an opportunity to do something. Sinister's footfalls gave away that he was coming up from behind.

So Apocalypse broke into a run, and he ran so fast it was as if he'd somehow stolen Quicksilver's powers. A dust cloud flew up behind his heels, the metal thundering off the floor in rapid succession.

None of the X-Men saw it coming, least of all Scott. Apocalypse decided that Pietro had quite the gift; Scott was either so surprised or so caught off guard he was nowhere near close to letting off a shot by the time the much larger man swung his fist.

The others watched in horror as that fist connected, not only with the strength of an immortal but with Quicksilver's speed. The blow sent Scott flying into the wall with near-bone-crunching force, so hard that he left a human-shaped impression and webbing cracks in it when he dropped to the floor.

Not about to slow down, Apocalypse drew his arm back and tossed Pietro into Kurt. And Kurt went down, so surprised at the turn of events that he didn't even _think_ to teleport, the two of them creating a tangle. Pietro was quick to throw Kurt away, grabbing at his throat and gulping down air, only to cough it out.

Sinister ran for him again, but Apocalypse teleported away just after his tendrils retracted with unnerving speed. He materialized over his weapon. This time, there was no one to take it save Apocalypse himself. He extended his arm and the tendril shot out once more, wrapping around the relic faster then he could have reached with his hand. It pulled back, and Apocalypse caught his treasure perfectly by the handle.

"_Now..._ I'll have some fun."

The armored warrior vanished in his light again and ended up back in the other room, behind Mr, Sinister. But Sinister was already too smart for that, and he spun on his heels, ready to strike.

Apocalypse didn't move for him just yet, and it wasn't long for his reasoning to show. More segments of metal like his armor clattered into existence out of thin air, around his newfound weapon. The metal curled around the handle and made it longer, while more shaped around the blade in an elongated "_A_," protecting the old, fragile metal and creating ultra-sharp edges.

Sinister took a defensive stance, but Apocalypse didn't attack him. Instead, he tipped the sword to his side and touched it to the Egyptian sarcophagus that had been knocked over earlier. Without warning, the sword began _glowing_ with an orange light, something completely different then anything Apocalypse did, but extraordinary in itself. The light flowed down the blade and formed an aura around the ancient coffin, eventually fading into it.

The battleground hung in dead silence, with Apocalypse patiently waiting for the results of whatever he'd just done, and the X-Men anticipating those same results.

"I wasn't expecting 'The Mummy Returns Again,'" Kurt commented, staying perfectly still otherwise.

Apocalypse didn't respond. But he watched as a transparent, ghostly _hand_ reached _through_ the old casket's front, dropping down and pulling the form within up through. The figure was that of a small child, apparently a little boy, cloaked in a robe that was too long for his height.

"Hi," he said, in an extraordinarily innocent voice. His mouth was barely visible under the heavy shadowing robes and hood.

"War, say hello to them in your... _usual_ fashion," Apocalypse smiled, moving the sword to his other hand.

Without another word, the child, War, clapped his hands above his head.

And the scattered spears, swords, daggers and other pointed weapons all across the floor suddenly _rose_ into the air, the sharp ones pointing at everyone in the room save the translucent child and Apocalypse.

Mr. Sinister analyzed the situation and came to a rational scientific conclusion. "Well, _this_ sucks!"

And then the weapons shot for their targets. Sinister thought he could smash them all away with his 'chucks, but that lasted for two wooden spears before he started ducking and dodging around the heavy metal. Kurt teleported around the rooms, but not before an axe put a cut down his forearm that he didn't even notice at the moment. Kitty started phasing and was perfectly content to let everything go through her.

And Scott, his breathing ragged, one hand glued to his side with the other at his visor, started blasting. When that proved to be futile as the weapons that survived his optic beams rose into the air again, he turned his attention elsewhere and blasted War.

The ghost child hit the wall much like Scott himself had, and he briefly wondered how something apparently immaterial could _thud._ And then Scott shot him _again_ just to be on the safe side. It apparently broke War's concentration, because the flying swords dropped to the floor.

And Apocalypse… chuckled. "I have what I came for."

"I'm tired," War added, still no hint of any real emotion in his childish voice, nothing more then a yawn.

With that, the immortal reared his sword up and spun on his heels, smashing it into the wall. The blade hit so precisely that a large, gaping hole tore out instead of a simple slice, and Apocalypse ducked through it and around the corner after taking a moment to deliver a mocking bow to his enemies War simply walked after him.

Kurt wanted to go after them, but Sinister grabbed his arm before he made a move. "Let them go, we've gotten what we came... for... too?"

The scientist felt wetness on his hand, and Kurt jumped when he brought it up and they both saw why.

The top of Kurt's forearm had a clean, perfect slice right up through the glove and his skin to the elbow; not very deep, but large and still bleeding. His fur staining red was a far more grotesque sight then it should have been. Thinking for the short term, Kurt pulled off his other, intact glove and wrapped it around as much of the wound as possible.

Meanwhile, terrified for Scott's health, Pietro and Kitty tried to ease him up on their shoulders. Unfortunately, Scott, blood starting to dribble from his mouth, was in too much pain to think rationally and the two of them were on a mindset of getting him help as soon as possible.

Mr. Sinister, on the other hand, figured that Apocalypse had probably broken a few of Scott's ribs in a _bad _way, to say nothing of his back slamming the wall. And if he was bleeding from the mouth, he probably had a punctured lung from his own ribs. Sinister realized, upon seeing the situation, that immediately moving Scott was _not_ the best idea, and he was rather adamant about how to handle it. "Jesusfuckingchristdon'tmovehim!"

A group teleport by Kurt to the X-Jet and five minutes later, the battered mutants were on their way home. Kurt and Kitty laid Scott on the floor, an oxygen mask to help him breath the only thing on the plane they could use to help him for now. Pietro was starting to feel the effects of his near strangulation, and his voice was gone, while Kurt had at least managed to stop his own injury from bleeding.

"I _told_ him I should've went alone," Sinister mumbled to himself, pushing the jet's engines harder then most would dare. He flipped on the auto pilot and got up, preparing to... assess the damage.

---

"I can not _believe..._"

Sinister did not appreciate being yelled at. "Don't you go blaming things on me!"

"Blaming _things _on you? You _are _Blame you sorry excuse for a-" Scott tried to get out.

"Shut the fuck _up, _are you pissed 'cause you got hammered? Is _that _it? Do you have any _idea_ how long it would've taken me to help your friend without his blood? I think I deserve _some_ consider... ation... here..."

Crumpling to the floor in the middle of his sentence, Mr. Sinister fell asleep.

And Beast stood behind him, an empty syringe in his hand. His face changed from annoyance to relief.

"Eh heh, thanks Mr. McCoy," Scott scratched his head, or tried to before moving his arm reminded him of his injuries. He was still having trouble breathing, feeling his broken ribs every time he dared inhale. And his tongue _hurt,_ it was a miracle he could talk normally.Kurt had to pull to make sure he wouldn't fall off his shoulder. "Guess we kinda got... over... worked..."

"Woah!" Kurt cried, Scott no longer trying to support himself and slipping from his grasp. He pulled the now-unconscious mutant back up to notice another syringe in his other arm, a syringe that carefully floated out and back to Jean a few feet away.

"I think they _both _need rest," an innocent-sounding Jean answered. "Besides, all we need is Scott to go ranting while we diagnose him. Someone really should tell him testosterone isn't an elixir. Kurt, did you figure anything out on the way back?"

With Beast grabbing Scott's legs to help Nightcrawler bring him to the nearest bed, he answered, "Um... he didn't let Mr. S get very far patting him down, but he said Scott had broken ribs and... we thought he was bleeding internally, but it looks like he just bit his tongue instead of coughing blood up."

"That's gonna kill him, no Danger Room sessions for awhile," Jean sighed; though she felt a serious concern. "I thought only Lance would ever get Scott to shout at the top of his lungs, let alone stand, with injuries like that."

Kurt didn't help the mood, rather glumly saying, "It gets better."

The furry mutant _bamfed _away, coming back a second later with Pietro hanging onto him.

Jean's eyes went wide. "What the Hell!"

Scott had serious injuries, but at least he looked like he would live. On the other hand, Pietro had red around his eyes and a _huge,_ vaguely hand shaped bruise around his neck. He simply shrugged at Jean's comment, his voice totally gone.

Kurt wasn't even going to mention his own bandaged arm until the more serious injuries were taken care of.

Mr. Sinister started snoring on the floor.

---

You know, this chapter is a lot shorter then it was going to be. It was originally about… fifty pages but... well, **I** certainly don't have an attention span for that. Nothing's cut though, just saved for later...

The ref list:

For those of you that don't watch Star Trek, Counselor Troi is, aside from Captain Obvious, an empath who can read emotions.

If you didn't catch Scott swiping Wolverine's lines from the movie... well, go watch it again. 8P To tell you the truth, the only reason Scott is losing his shirt more then Captain Kirk is so I could work that in.

Sinister's line about not saying because he's not knowing is inspired by a line from Babylon 5.

Joseph's line about Scott not improving since being in the same situation is vaguely based on a line from Cowboy Bebop. I actually have the episode it's from (I love boxed sets,) but I'm too lazy to get up and put the DVD in to get it word for word at the moment.

Apoc's line, "Such a delightful waste of human life," is from Lexx.

Kurt's "The Mummy Returns Again" line is reffing Julia's Apocalypse fic, The Beginning and the End. You know, that one I told you to go read?

War's character design is based off of the Bahamut Fayth in Final Fantasy X.


	3. Spread, Inferno

Disc: I still don't own X-Men: Evolution, and I'd be damned if I were making money off of this. Considering I don't see any hellfire and brimstone around, I would say that I'm not profiting.

Yes, you are reading correctly, this chapter is finished. Now, if we're really lucky, part 4 won't take several MORE months.

Oh, something I forgot to mention. I said in like, part 1's notes that this fic starts after "The HeX Factor," but at the time I'd decided that, it hadn't occurred to me that Mystique has been Xavier ever since then. Since there's no _concrete_ evidence to support it without "Day of Reckoning" (Mystique saying she has 'unfinished business' means absolutely nothing without the actual plot twist to back it up) you can safely assume I have no plans on suddenly revealing Xavier to be Mystique. I figured it's better to say that now in case anyone's expecting it so you won't be let down.

****

Walpurgis Night

III. Spread, Inferno

by Alhazred

madarab20@hotmail.com

Gummed up brain dead and can't decide

You can't pray enough you can't hide

You can be cool or you can cry

Do it wrong, not at all, or do it right

No one owes you no one's to blame

Save for bad dreams or DNA

Ask your conscience why and how

Do it then, do it when, but do it now

What's up (What's up)

Sweet cakes? (Sweet cakes?)

Who's hip! (Who's hip!) Anyway? (Anyway?)

Earthgirls (earthgirls) are easy (are easy)

Whatcha gonna do little buckaroo?

(Hey you better ask her nice!)

Hey all you gotta do happy fool, is ask your mom

No we all can't be Superfly

GQ-PHD-FBI

You can pretend or you can try

Move ahead, lay down dead, or slip on by

When the truth seems so far away

Buddha loves you, Jesus saves

You need answers for your dismay

Ask yourself, ask your mom, ask DNA

What's up (What's up)

Sweet cakes? (Sweet cakes?)

Who's hip! (Who's hip!) Anyway? (Anyway?)

Earthgirls (earthgirls) are easy (are easy)

Whatcha gonna do little buckaroo?

(Hey you better ask her nice!)

Hey all you gotta do happy fool, is ask your mom

~~~Ask DNA, by _The Seatbelts_

---

"My dear friend," Hank pleaded, "while everyone appreciates the lengths you seem willing to go to in order to help Rogue... it _is_ three-o'clock in the morning."

Not looking away from the computer screen, Mr. Sinister restrained himself from laughing out loud. _I **told** them I just want Apocalypse and now they're starting to think I care. How sweet. Oh well... who am I to complain, when they just care if it gets done?_

"Yes, and I haven't even finished the DNA analysis yet," he finally said, debating whether or not to truly enlighten Beast on his... slightly less amount of morals then most people. They would find out if he ever had reason to work on something other then Apocalypse. "Come to think of it, I've ran it through twice and the damn thing _won't_ analyze, something's up..."

"Have you ruled out equipment failure?" Beast decided that was a less insulting question then 'maybe something's broken?'

"Of course," Sinister answered, his mind starting to wander with different possibilities.

"Then perhaps you are going about it in the wrong way," Beast replied. "If Apocalypse is so extraordinary, perhaps his DNA is something different then what we understand as the norm?"

"You know," Mr. S snapped his fingers, and started rummaging around on the desk for a floppy disk. "You're absolutely right! I've got something around here from an old colleague of mine I kept in touch with, supposed to read the more useless data without going through the detailed analysis... assuming it works."

Upon finding the disc, Sinister shoved the little piece of plastic into the drive, shut down the normal program and opened the new one. "Now let's see, should only take a few seconds."

He spun in his chair to face Beast. "So, what are _you_ still doing up?"

"It's my turn to wait for a phone call from our friends that are currently in the city." Scratching his head, Beast went on. "There's a bit of a chance they won't be calling at reasonable hours, and there _are_ two patients in the Infirmary to watch over, so there is a certain logic in remaining conscious."

Sinister tilted his head. "Hank, you're weird. And I don't mean the fur. Why are they in the city?"

"Ah, one of our students, well, his parents were recently in a car accident and he and his aunt have been at the hospital with them."

"Oh, so _that's_ why the Weather Witch I heard about isn't here?" Sinister raised an eyebrow.

"I confess," Beast regarded him with some semblance of suspicion, "that I would like to know how you obtained your information on us, but yes, that is why."

After grinning for a moment, Dr. McCoy tilted his own head to see past the clown. "It appears your task is complete."

Spinning around back to the monitor, Sinister typed at a few keys and engrossed himself in the data while Beast looked over his shoulder. "Let's see... I knew that, I knew _that_ too, this is way too normal so far."

"Woahhhh," Sinister exclaimed, finally catching the abnormality he was looking for in the mass of information, an abnormality that was deceptively subtle. "Why are the chromosomes so _huge!_ That's... that's..."

"I don't quite follow," Beast answered, trying to pick out the bit of information that was so important.

"That's _not possible,_" Sinister added as an answer. "Look at this, their... how the hell does he have DNA where the chromosomes are a third larger then _anything else on the planet?_ Unless..."

Quickly closing down the program, Sinister went back to the one he had tried before and set it for a different kind of work. With this new variable, he was confident that he could finally get the analysis, but he wasn't interested in taking another few hours to do that right now.

He wanted to see the chemical makeup. Of course, for his purposes, 'seeing' the DNA strand was about as useful as Rogue was in her coma, but he wanted to confirm his suspicion. The program was capable of putting together visuals based on how the various compounds that made up the strand were organized, much easier then using real magnification.

When the picture came up, his hands fell right from the keyboard and just hung past the chair. The clown vaguely kicked his chair back a few inches, but he didn't move otherwise. He _couldn't_ move, and somewhere in his mind he vaguely registered that he was starting to drool.

"Fascinating," Beast commented, the revelation not lost on him at all.

Mr. Sinister reached over to the table, turned the centrifuge off, pulled the blood sample out with dangerously shaking fingers... and just stared through it. It was almost beyond his comprehension.

---

Scott awoke that morning to the sound of the Infirmary's heavy doors sliding open. "Mornin' Mr. McCoy."

"Hmmm," Beast stalked over, a droopy look on his face. It almost seemed like the fur itself under his eyes had turned black.

Scott blinked behind his glasses. "Didn't sleep well?"

"Didn't sleep at _all_," the furry mutant threw an exhausted smile. "We were up until three-AM trying to figure out that blood sample you brought back, and _then, _well, did you know Apocalypse has _triple-helix_ DNA? It's really quite fascinating; well worth the sacrifice of a night's slumber. The protein analysis _alone_ took two-and-a-half hours."

"Okay," Scott nodded, trying to sound like he'd understood at _least_ a word of it. He decided, however, that there wasn't anything better to talk about. "What's so special about a triple-helix?"

"Nothing _has_ one, my friend," Beast raised a finger. "Until now. My esteemed colleague Mr. Sinister seems to think the extra helix is an artificial addition to normal human DNA. It would certainly explain our dear blue friend's proficiency with his armor."

"Uh, Mr. McCoy," Scott decided to change the subject a little. If he ever saw that rather hard-hitting armor again, it would be too soon. "Can I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"How badly _am_ I injured?" He wasn't entirely sure himself, but he wasn't having as hard a time breathing anymore. Still, whoever was sitting on his chest needed to get off.

"Hmmm, well, if I remember correctly," Beast scratched his head and looked over the papers on the table just to be sure. "You have six broken ribs. And two are fractured in more then one place."

Beast couldn't really tell if Scott was staring at him or actually blinking. The younger mutant's response was rather loud. "_What?"_

"You have-"

Scott sat up and cut him off, regretting it immediately. "He only hit me once!"

Beast pushed his glasses up his nose. "Hmm, fascinating, a testament to his strength. Or perhaps to the strength added by his mimicry of Quicksilver. We haven't a _clue_ as to how he pulled that one..."

"C'mon Mr. McCoy, it doesn't even hurt," Scott fell back, wincing, "that much."

"Ah, that would be due to the morphine drip added into your IV. I set it up, oh... twenty minutes ago." He looked at his watch, "my, how I lose track of time when I don't sleep."

Scott was dumbstruck. "Oh man... I'm gonna miss school today..."

"And tomorrow," Beast added, a bit too cheerfully for Scott's taste. "We'll talk about Friday later. Considering there isn't much one can do to treat injuries such as yours, a lot of rest will do you good until you're strong enough to move, at which point you will want to avoid any sudden upper-body movements."

"This is not fair," Scott conceded.

Hank tacked on one more thing. "And you can forget about missions or the Danger Room for a couple of months or so."

"This is _not_ fair." Scott bit his lip before saying anything more.

"Life rarely is, my young friend, and I speak from experience." Beast answered, a bit too cheery for Scott's liking. He wasn't the one that couldn't get out of bed because some armored lunatic had... punched him. Once.

"Well, that being said," Beast went on, "do you have any schoolwork you can accomplish without large amounts of strain?"

"Well," Scott thought. Math was out, writing required more moving then would be comfortable. "I suppose I could finish reading Paradise Lost for English, but..."

"Ah, Milton. I shall retrieve your copy during my rounds," Beast promised.

"But I," Scott began, realizing Beast was already gone. "I _hate_ Paradise Lost..."

One punch... one punch and I'm gone...

---

"Alright everyone, pile in!"

Mr. Sinister's never-ending smile didn't bode well as he gestured to the decrepit, horribly old van in the garage. The X-Van was, in fact, gone.

"Like, you've _got_ to be kidding," Kitty stared at it, wide eyed.

"Yeah, is that _safe?_" Kurt asked.

Sinister's smile instantly turned into a frown. "Look, Summers' car is out of gas, if you want to get to school, you're either walking or getting a ride from me. And _nobody _drives my van but me."

He dangled his keys in the air, as if to taunt them all. Joseph briefly considered stealing it, but the fact that Sinister was blocking the vehicle made that option unavailable.

Jean didn't really mind... until they all got inside. For the first time since she started high school, she was truly, consciously worried about what would happen to her image if anyone saw her. Sinister's van had to be at least fifteen years old. The seats were all separate, like some grunge version of the Blackbird's interior.

She was thankful that the seatbelts were intact, at the very least.

"Okay, everyone buckled in?" Sinister called back. Kurt had not only done that, but had let his tail free and wrapped it around the chair's arm just to be safe.

Five seconds later, Sinister turned the key in the ignition, and a second after that, he peeled out of the garage at full speed, almost tipped over while racing down the driveway, and nearly slammed into the gate before it opened.

Kurt looked like he was going to be sick, and that was just his hologram.

"Like, where'd you learn to drive!" Kitty demanded to know, wondering why she had chosen to ride shotgun.

"Driver's Ed, where else?" The clown answered, swerving onto the shortest route to Bayville High.

Joseph considered saying something, but he just sunk into his excuse for a seat instead. He'd already gotten use to hanging around Scott while at the mansion, and everyone seemed to pay little attention to him for it. Now, on the other hand... he noticed Nightcrawler, in the seat across his, was starting to glance his way every so often.

For the moment, however, he concentrated on being ready in case their driver flipped them over. Mr. Sinister was not amused when he neared Bayville High and, his impatience growing, performed a horrendously illegal action by cutting off more then one car that clearly had the right of way.

Jean almost passed out when she looked through the mercifully tinted windows and noticed the clown had barely missed knocking Duncan off the road. Seconds later, Sinister threw the wheel as far as it would go and skidded to a perfect stop in a parking space. Clearly, he'd watched The Blues Brothers one too many times. It was a miracle he hadn't been stopped enough on this one trip to have his license revoked.

Jean doubted, however, that he even _had_ one to begin with. Fortunately, after reminding them that he would be back at the end of the day, Sinister kept his window rolled up and peeled off again once his passengers were safely out. She considering asking everyone if they were okay, especially since Kitty seemed a little off-balance, but her thoughts were interrupted by a voice she knew all too well.

"Jean!"

The telekinetic winced before spinning on her heals. "Duncan! Hi!"

"Who the hell was _driving_ that thing? Don't you usually get a ride from Summers?"

"Driving? Scott? Oh, thaaat," she drawled out, vaguely waving a finger around. _Less then two seconds and people are already asking the wrong questions..._ "Oh, Scott's... sick, and that was... that was a really bad driver."

"Oh, well, no offense," Duncan went for the typical jock response, "but tell the idiot if he does that again I'm gonna pound him."

"I'll do that," Jean answered, not missing a beat. She had a feeling Mr. Sinister could break Duncan over his knee if he were so inclined.

---

Quicksilver hadn't planned on going to school that morning. In fact, he was wondering what he was smoking when he told Xavier he wanted to, despite it being against the adults' better judgment. After all, if anyone caught sight of his 'injury,' it wouldn't exactly be possible to pass it off as an accident. Strangle marks, complete with fingers, just didn't happen unless someone tried to… strangle you.

That's what turtlenecks are for, he'd told them. Or he'd written them, though having to carry a little notepad everywhere wasn't such an inconvenience since he could write as fast as he could talk.

Fortunately, Forge continued to live up to his name as a genius. From what Pietro understood, the engineer wasn't around much, but he was thankful that someone a lot smarter then himself was hanging around for the current crisis. Pietro was even more thankful because Forge was currently slapping together a nice artificial larynx, small enough to fit on a necklace, no less, so he could speak while his injuries healed.

Unfortunately, Forge wouldn't be done for awhile, so he was resigned to the notepad for today.

After some pleading, Xavier had allowed him to run off, literally. After careful consideration, Pietro had decided that out of everything, actually going to school was a plus; it would make it that much easier to avoid the Brotherhood. Given their attendance record, Lance would be more likely to shove Fred and Todd to the Institute looking for him, either rationalizing he could be nowhere else or that the good ol' X-Geeks would be glad to help in the search.

That was a delusion; the Brotherhood might as well get down on their knees and beg, for all the help the X-Men would give after Wanda trashed them all, it wouldn't make a difference.

So, of course, the very first thing that went wrong with the day occurred three seconds later when Pietro walked around a corner and bumped right into Lance himself.

The younger mutant wanted to die.

And to make matters worse, Scott was writhing in pain back at the Institute, so, without his favorite rival to keep him occupied, Lance would focus all of his attention on asking things like 'where the hell have you been? When the hell are you coming back? Good god you _didn't_ ditch us for the X-Geeks, did you?'

"Where the hell have you been!" Lance demanded.

Strike one, Pietro thought, letting out a sigh. Unable to run away, what with everyone in the halls, he scribbled on his pad and turned it so Lance could see.

"What, cat got your tongue?" Avalanche retorted, Pietro having wrote, _none of your damn business._

Pietro speed-wrote again, and Lance read, _No, she has YOUR tongue and FRANKLY she can keep it._

Flustered beyond redemption, Lance couldn't even think up of some kind of comeback. But he was getting angry. "Where _have_ you-"

And Pietro shoved his notebook at his face, having long answered the question. _With the X-Geeks. Deal._

It wasn't that he held anything against Lance... or Fred, or Todd, or even Wanda. _Especially _Wanda, she _was_ his sister after all. But he wasn't going to be Mystique's little toy soldier, not just because his friends had no problem with it. Mesmero dying in his arms hadn't helped his thinking any. Pietro hadn't yet decided if it was a good thing that that had traumatized him into running for Xavier's open arms instead of waiting for his father to make a move.

All of this crossed Pietro's mind as he turned and started walking away, but Lance wasn't dealing with the news as well as he might have wished. In fact, Lance felt downright betrayed, as hypocritical as that was. This was made evident when yelled quite a distinctive "Hey!" and grabbed at Pietro before he was gone.

Unfortunately, Lance pulled at the collar of Pietro's sweater, and his own voice left him while Pietro glared daggers, the speed demon oblivious to Lance catching sight of the reason he couldn't talk.

At a complete loss for words, Lance let him go. Pietro was now dead set on seeing one of the guidance counselors to get his schedule changed for the sole purpose of avoiding the Brotherhood like the _plague._

---

Everyone's head turned when a whistle blew at the start of second period Phys Ed. The jaws of the only students that had chosen to arrive on time, namely Jean Grey, Kurt Wagner, and Joseph Kincaid promptly hit the floor.

Logan had blown the whistle. Logan was at Bayville High.

Logan was... the gym teacher? "Is everyone always this late?"

Nobody said a word. Logan stared them down. "Helllooo?"

"Um... yeah?" Kurt answered, though Logan wasn't sure if the elf was acknowledging his presence or answering the original question.

"Logan," Jean finally spoke up. "Uh, _why_ are you here?"

"I'm keepin' an eye on someone," Wolverine answered, checking off the appropriate names on his attendance sheet. A gust of wind blew by, leaving a piece of paper in his hands. Pietro now stood with the others. His sweatshirt was quite noticeable, compared to the typical gym clothes the others wore. "The other kids changed their minds and decided they wanted the camp after the first night with me. So here I am, and no powers at school, Jolt Boy."

Logan looked at Pietro's transfer slip and rolled his eyes.

Kurt didn't seem to care for the moment. He teleported over and stole the basketball Pietro had under his arm.

"_Elf!_" Logan hollered. He opted not to lecture them, as more students were finally coming in. Some of them were on the football team, and Logan certainly knew who Duncan Mathews was. He made a note to go hard on them; football players had it so easy these days, they were just completely unprepared for the real world.

A half-hour later, they had experienced a rather large taste of it. While running the football players harder then the football coach did, Logan took a look around. Jean and her friends had started a mini-soccer game, and Kurt was teaching Pietro and Joseph the finer points of gymnastics on a set of parallel bars. They had no intention of being trampled by Duncan or embarrassingly outplayed by the girls.

Jean, in fact, found herself assaulted by more Duncan insanity just as she was about to head into the locker room.

"Hey Jean, whatcha doin' tonight?"

Oh, god. She _really_ didn't want to go out with Duncan, especially now; it was tempting to drive a knee into his crotch so he'd get the message that his personality needed adjusting. _C'mon, you told **Scott** he's a jerk, why can't you tell the **jerk?**_

But she couldn't. Maybe it was the whole social thing; it'd look pretty strange if a popular girl told a popular guy to go do certain things with himself, and the entire school would hear Duncan's edited version anyway. Or maybe she just didn't want to deal with the reaction, or maybe she was just too kind-hearted to let him down.

Maybe it was all three.

"Oh, kinda busy, washing my hair and all," she said, regretting it as soon as the words were out of her mouth. A classic blow-off like that was bound to get him riled.

"You're _what?_"

Rolling her eyes, Jean answered, "what, Duncan, would you rather I say 'I'm seeing someone else?'"

"You're _what?_" He repeated, eyes wide.

It was the perfect chance. And Jean took it. "See, Duncan, this is the _problem_ in our 'relationship,' you're not satisfied with reality, you start inventing fantasies out of completely innocent comments!"

He stared at her wide-eyed, unwilling to comprehend that she could _possibly_ be _this_ angry with him. "But... I..."

Seeing Kurt trot up to him while keeping an eye on Jean, Logan talked before the elf had the chance. "No, I'm _not_ gonna tell him to back off and make her look like a fool, there's only one of 'em, she can handle him herself."

Kurt stared at him for a second, amused at Logan considering Duncan a bona fide enemy. "'Only one of them?' Heh, yeah, you're right Logan..."

"Relax. Although, I suppose I'm opening myself up to be accused of favoring the boys."

"Still," Kurt raised a finger, his hologram raising two. "Better that then interfering with Jean's personal life and making her mad!"

"Exactly Elf, exactly."

Logan was actually broadcasting his thoughts on the matter. For a second, Jean decided it was a good thing he came to that conclusion; a damsel in distress she was not, nor did she have any desire to look like one.

"But, but, Duncan," she sighed, massaging the side of her head. This situation wasn't just troublesome, it was downright depressing. And it was going to stop, no matter what. _Now or never._ "You know, it's just not working between us. I think it _is_ a good idea we see other people."

"But Jean! I..."

Of course, he wouldn't get the message that easily. Men in general always fell somewhere between "clueless in an endearing sort of way" and "complete dumbass." Duncan was very close to the latter. If he was going to get ideas of following her around and either begging for forgiveness or refusing to go away, drastic, _desperate_ action was needed. "In fact, I think I'll start now."

That being said, she promptly turned around, grabbed Pietro as he jogged by, quite literally swept him off his feet, and gave him the biggest kiss of his life before he could process this new chain of events.

Duncan was certainly not pleased with this. Nor was he pleased when Pietro looked like he was enjoying it. But he was too shell-shocked to say a word.

"Now this," Logan sighed, Kurt staring in awe, "I have to break up. "Grey! Maximoff! Cut the PDA!"

Prompted by Logan, Jean put her hands to Pietro's shoulders and gently shoved him back. Pietro, on the other hand, had long left Earth and simply fell on his butt, grinning like an idiot.

A smirk on her face, Jean headed for the locker room before Duncan regained normal brain functions himself. "Hm, I should really apologize to Quicksilver for that..."

---

"Pietro, did you _have_ to transfer into classes with all of us?" Kurt frowned, getting annoyed at the speed demon's pure lack of tact as he observed, or rather, _restlessly_ watched the card game he was playing with Amanda.

He glared at him, zipping around to see Amanda's hand, not bothering to convey that it was either being near them and in safety or dealing with the 'hood. Besides, the teacher in charge of this study hall didn't make students actually do _work._

Amanda wanted to say something about Kurt's little secret, she had certainly noticed Pietro seemed a little abnormal and her suspicions on things were starting to rise, but she kept her mouth shut and decided to concentrate instead.

Laying a card from her hand down on the board, she declared, "Saki the Clown, in defense mode."

"What?" Kurt blinked. "You're kidding, right?"

Pietro raised an eyebrow, as if he knew something from looking at her cards.

"Maybe," she said, not missing a beat.

"Hah! I play Reborn The Monster," Kurt laid the card down, and took one from the discard pile. "And I resurrect the Dark Magician, in attack mode, which annihilates Saki."

She was expecting that, Pietro finally wrote on his notepad, so Kurt and Amanda could see.

"In fact, I was," Amanda put down a card. "Blue Eyes White Dragon, in attack mode. Dark Magician is toast, and it looks like your life points just hit zero, Kurt."

"But! But!" Kurt blinked at the playing field, finally conceding. "You win."

The lunch bell rang, and Pietro shot off.

He thought lunch would be hell, pure and simple. He could change his classes, and he most certainly had done so, but lunch meant dealing with the social issue; he could sit with some of the X-Men, but he didn't feel an overwhelming need to. He _certainly_ couldn't look Jean in the eye for the moment, lest his face turn several shades of red.

She was, in fact, one _hell_ of a kisser.

Besides, Evan was back, and he was sitting with them. Of course, it made sense; he vanished and now he reappeared with no warning whatsoever. It was one more problem to deal with. _Good lord, me n' Evan living in the same house. Be afraid..._

He wasn't going to sit with Lance, Todd or Fred, either. But the looks Lance shot at him from his table had started to annoy him to the point of finishing early, which, fortunately, wasn't a difficult task.

So he ended up wandering the halls. There was going to be an assembly after lunch, so at least English was getting bit into.

Not five minutes before lunch would have ended, however, something went off. He spotted. Duncan was following Jean around, half-pissed at what she'd pulled earlier and half-desperate to get her back. This was amusing, as it was debatable if they were ever 'together' in the first place.

Of course, Jean wasn't taking his mouth lying down and was quite fine with making even more of a scene in the hallway to tell him off. Leaning against the wall, Pietro enjoyed the show.

But Pietro's amusement waned when Duncan got physical and slammed her back into her locker.

Not that Jean was incapable of handling herself. Quicksilver figured she would've slammed her knee, or the telekinetic equivalent, into the one place Duncan wouldn't have wanted her to.

But he didn't give her time. After Pietro tossed caution to the wind in favor of racing down the hall, Duncan found a piece of paper tossed into his face. Ignoring Jean for a moment to grab at it and read, _Get your stinkin paws off her, you damn dirty ape,_ Duncan soon felt a hand on his shoulder spinning him to the side.

Then he found Pietro's fist in his face, and a second later, the sophomore had succeeded in embarrassing Duncan Mathews to the _extreme _when he crashed to the floor, blood running from his broken nose.

"Now I _know _a bunch of rowdy students aren't starting trouble on their new Vice-Principle's first day."

Pietro whirled on his heals at the sound of the new voice.

And he stopped dead when he saw the source. Duncan heaved himself to his feet, ready to knock Pietro into the land of concussions, but the sight of the new arrival downright scared him. "Oh... shit."

Duncan could lift weights for a year straight and not get the muscles the man staring them all down had.

But that wasn't what intimidated Pietro.

Pietro recognized 'Henry Gyrich' instantly, even if Apocalypse had only kept his disguise briefly in Idaho.

Jean didn't even know why he'd tensed; she hadn't been there. And Mr. Gyrich glanced at her before grinning in Pietro's direction. "How's the neck, Cricket?"

With a chuckle, he turned around and walked back down the hall.

"_That's_ our new vice-principle?" Jean blinked, "How did he..."

She remembered not to mention Pietro when Duncan, his patience gone, scowled and left them in peace.

"Hey, like, guys," Kitty ran up to them. "You two o... kay..."

Her voice trailed off when her eyes fixed on the man stomping his way through the hall, students parting as much as possible to let him through. She caught a glimpse of the small blue "_A_" of his belt buckle before his back was to her, and it wasn't the most calming sight, to say the least.

---

"I don't know."

Caught off guard, Kurt stopped for a second and jogged back to Joseph's side. "Huh?"

"The Magneto thing. That's what you wanna know, isn't it?"

"Well, kinda, yeah," Kurt confessed. "To tell you the truth, I kinda liked the idea there's someone as weird as _me_ around now."

Joseph stopped, caught a bit off guard by that. "Really?"

Kurt shrugged.

And they both laughed out loud. And then they stopped when Kurt noticed a scene developing at their destination.

Joseph was glad he had his camera.

Meanwhile, Jean knew Duncan was pissed. That had been the intention, after all. She did not, however, realize just how foolish the guy could be. She found out a minute after she spotted Mr. Sinister's van of horrors, gotten in, and closed the massive side door.

The telekinetic had made the mistake of bruising Duncan's ego and pride, and this only encouraged him further to get her back. Or get her at _all,_ as far as she was concerned. The fact that two of his friends from the football team followed him as he stalked up and banged on the van said as much.

"Jean! Come out here right _now!_"

"Oh my gaawwd," she whimpered, grateful that only Kitty had arrived as of yet. And Kitty wasn't laughing, _that_ was a good sign Supportive friends were always nice. "I'm invisible... I'm invisible... I'm... Kitty!"

Kitty jumped at Jean's sudden attention. "Like, yeah?"

"Could you, say, phase me out through the other side?"

Mr. Sinister, apparently sympathetic, leaned over the passenger seat and looked out the window. "Nah, no good, there's a crowd gathering."

Duncan banged again and referred to Jean using a word that distinctly started with the letter 'b.' Sinister's worry for her suddenly seemed to fade away, his sympathetic look warping into anger. "If he even _thinks_ of putting a dent in..."

Duncan's fist stopped in midair when the driver's side window rolled down and Sinister stuck his head out. "Hey, jock-boy, if you _touch_ my van again, I'm gonna break your face!"

"Little early for Halloween, buddy?" Duncan sneered in that 'I'm better then you' way of his. "I'd like to see you _try,_ now tell Jean to open the door."

The clown turned his head back in, out of Duncan's view, while he covered half of his face so Kitty couldn't see. His whisper to the telekinetic was barely audible.

But Jean could see the words his lips formed, even if she couldn't hear, and it was such an absurd and disgusting thought that she reflexively repeated it. "He wants to _rape _me!"

Unfortunately, it hadn't sounded like a question, and her eyes went wide when she realized how Sinister had baited her. The clown opened his door, stepped out, and put on the perfect show. "He wants to rape you? Well, I'm not gonna let _that_ happen."

She bounded from her seat and flung the side door open, but it was too late. Duncan, annoyed by the distraction, threw a clumsy fist at Mr. Sinister.

The poor boy had no idea what he was getting into. Sinister stepped to the side, grabbed Duncan's arm, and wrenched it around, putting Duncan in the perfect place for a sidekick into his already-broken nose.

Bleeding again, Duncan threw another punch, and this time, Sinister punched him back. Duncan staggered, but his target now became his assailant. Hopping off the ground, Sinister planted his sneaker in Duncan's face with a roundhouse kick.

The football player hit ground and rolled once, his friends backing away. They certainly didn't want to be associated with him at the moment. But Duncan was stupid enough to get back up, and Sinister grabbed him by the collar of his jacket.

The clown made sure not to slam his head into the door _too_ hard. It was just enough to make a mark, on both Duncan _and_ his vehicle. This time, he let the jock stay standing, ignoring him while he ran a hand over the damaged metal.

He turned back to Duncan and, through clenched teeth, spat, "you... dented... my... _van!_"

Freaked and knocked down more then one peg, Duncan yelped, turned tail, and ran away as fast as he could. His friends ran after him in short order.

"Oh yeah!" Sinister dusted his hands off. "'Revenge of the nerds' time, baby!"

A few feet away, Kurt and Joseph watched the jocks fleeing.

"You got good shots of that?"

"Are you kidding?" Joseph scrolled through the files on his digital camera. "I'd die to publish some of these in the paper. I can see the headlines now, 'Star Quarterback Assaulted by Mysterious Clown.'"

---

"I can not believe you did that!"

Welcoming the break from his book, Scott turned his eyes to the doors. He wished he could actually get up and go see what was going on. That had sounded like Jean, and the loud crashes and bangs that followed could have been Jean tossing the furniture at something, or someone.

The doors slid open, and Mr. Sinister dashed through as soon as the gap between them was large enough. He hit the control panel on the other side almost instantaneously, re-closing the only entrance.

With that done, he leaned against the wall like he was hiding from an angry predator.

"Figures," Scott commented. "What did you _do_ to her?"

"Figures, what did you do to her," the clown repeated in a rather high-pitched voice. "Why am **I** instantly the bad guy here?"

"Because you're a raving psychotic madman?" Scott said.

"Oh hah hah." Sinister rolled his eyes. "To answer your question, I beat up her boyfriend... ex-boyfriend. Or whatever he is."

Scott tried to say something, but he found himself simply staring for a moment, his mouth hanging open. Finally, "You _beat up_ Duncan?"

"He dented my van," the scientist pleaded. "He had it coming!"

"On school grounds?" Scott started imagining police officers interrogating Professor Xavier, demanding to know why he'd hired someone who hit minors to _work_ in a place loaded with them. And what if they were around long enough for someone to accidentally give them all away?

"Relax, I was keeping him off Jean, he was going to rape her," Sinister chuckled.

Scott just stared at him. For once, Sinister realized that his own story was getting more ludicrous every time he said something.

"Okay, _okay,_ he wasn't gonna rape her, but everyone that _witnessed_ it thinks he was. Except for Jean. And Kitty, and Nightcrawler. And the Mini-me..."

"Mini-what-who?" Scott asked, wondering if he meant Joseph. The implication that Sinister _knew_ Magneto and wasn't telling them was frightening. But then, he might have simply looked through Cerebro's files like Joseph had. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

Sinister rolled his eyes and walked over to the table near Scott's bed. "Whatever. Oh, while I'm here... I was the lucky one to go through your pockets when we came back from the mission. After I woke up, thank you Beast..."

Scott's face turned noticeably white.

Meanwhile, Sinister dug into his _own_ pockets. "Let's see, this is yours..."

Scott saw his wallet hitting the table. "This is yours." His keys went next. "This is yours." Sinister had the courtesy to set down his cell phone instead of tossing it. "I _think_ this is... I don't even know what this _is,_ but I'd venture its Rogue's, actually."

Tossing the gothic-looking item down, Sinister took one more thing from his pocket; the little case he kept his syringes and samples in. Two were now missing, but one was filled with a light blue liquid. "Speaking of Rogue, I do believe I'll prove I'm as smart as I think I am."

"That was all?" Scott blurted out.

"If it wasn't, I'd give the rest to you," Mr. S called back as he swiped the curtain around the next bed over away. Rogue was in that bed, still unconscious. Her vital signs were higher then they should've been for her current state, but other then that, her condition was certainly a coma.

Sinister put a pair of gloves on, wiped down a spot at the top of her arm with alcohol, and gave her the needle.

"How long is it supposed to take?" Scott asked, the idea of not only Rogue recovering but of having some company very appealing to him.

"Well, if I'm right," Sinister stared at her, fiddling a bit with his watch, "actually, I _know_ I'm right, just give it a little time. It _is_ rewriting her DNA, after all."

"Rewriting DNA?" Scott paused, "That sounds... dangerous."

The clown gave a tired chuckle. "Well, technically that's how her powers _work_. I finally figured some of it out during my last experiment. I'm not entirely sure how, but her skin literally tears DNA from the organic things she touches and uses it to reconstruct her own. That's how she gets a mutant's powers, the X-gene comes with it. Then, over time, her DNA asserts itself."

That worried Scott; was Rogue nothing more then an experiment to him? He wasn't kidding when he said Sinister was psychotic.

"By the way, I need a blood sample from you," the scientist added as an afterthought, grabbing a normal syringe from a drawer.

Scott wasn't entirely sure he trusted Sinister, even with such simple tasks. "Why?"

"Call it... curiosity."

Sinister didn't give him a choice, but Scott didn't protest. It wasn't like he could run away, and besides, what was the harm in taking a little blood? So he rolled up his sleeve and let Sinister have his way for the moment.

Wincing as Sinister shoved the needle in with absolutely no care for his comfort, Scott said, "Curiosity killed the cat, you know."

"Oh, I don't know," Sinister grinned, holding the vial of Scott's blood up to the light as if he could see the secrets of the universe inside. "The afterlife has its benefits."

"Hey, did I come at a bad time?"

Embarrassed by his child-like mindset, Sinister quickly spun around and shoved the vial into his pocket.

Scott's reaction to the newcomer was far more positive. He hadn't been expecting his brother to walk into the room with no warning whatsoever. "Alex!"

"Heya Bro!" Alex smiled, content with his surprise. Scott noticed Alex had dark circles under hies eyes and looked more disheveled then the morning after he and Joseph had fallen asleep on the floor, but he wasn't complaining.

Mr. Sinister looked at Alex, then at Scott, tossing the word 'bro' around in his head a few times. "Oh my _god,_ there's _two_ of them."

Sinister almost walked out the door, but before he did so, he leaned out and peered down the corridors. Satisfied that Jean had given up, he dashed out.

Five seconds after the doors closed, his scream filled the room.

"Did he make someone mad?" Alex blinked.

"Yes, yes he did," Scott shook his head. "Hey, what are you _doing_ here?"

Alex set his bag down and pulled a chair up near his brother. "Hey, came as soon as I heard you got hurt, man. Well, I tried, but it was a pain getting airline tickets. I'd give ya a hug, Scott, but it would probably kill you."

"Yeah," Scott groaned, "I think it would. Alex, man, you look like Hell."

"I think that's my line, Bro," Alex said. "But yeah, dude, I _can't_ sleep on airplanes, which kinda sucks when your flight is more then ten hours each on two of 'em, ya know?"

"Ouch," Scott smiled. "Why don't you get some sleep? I mean, I'm not moving for at least another day, so I'm told, it'd be better then just sitting here."

"You being the expert in just laying around, huh?" Alex laughed. "Bro, you took the words right outta my mouth."

---

"Perhaps I should avoid her for awhile."

"Yeah, you should," Logan resisted the urge to laugh, instead opening the freezer and tossing Sinister a pack of ice. The scientist was quick to press it to the growing lump on his head. "You know, it's not a good idea to make a telekinetic mad. I wouldn't get on Storm's bad side, either."

"Can't wait to meet her," Sinister groaned, stepping out of the kitchen.

Logan hunted for a bite in the fridge, but looked up when a new scent caught his nose. "That you, Storm?"

"Indeed it is," the weather witch entered through the other door. "I... why are you dressed like a gym teacher?"

She couldn't help herself. The sight of _Logan_ in an air-sweater and shorts with a whistle around his neck was like something out of the Twilight Zone. It was also pretty funny.

"Don't you _dare_ laugh," he intoned, deciding an old half of a tuna sandwich would suffice for food. "I _am_ a gym teacher. Substitute, anyway. Long story, Chuck'll tell you. Where's Spyke?"

"I dropped him off at the school earlier," Ororo said, hunting through the cupboards for to distract herself from the maddeningly hilarious sight Logan presented. "He's getting everything he has to catch up on, he'll take the late bus home."

"He's on my attendance sheet for tomorrow," Wolverine answered, eating quickly. "What a way to come back. By the way, we've got new students. And Hank has a new friend, I'd stay away from the basement."

Ororo raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? Charles told me about Pietro the last time I called."

"Yep, we got Speedy now, even if he's a bit... disturbed. I'm outta here. The head coach wants me to... help... with football practice this afternoon."

"Sounds like fun," Storm chuckled. She wasn't sure whether or not to pity him.

"Loads," he said on his way out the door. She thought she could see him sticking cotton up his nose...

Storm sat at the table as she heard the feint sound of the door closing. She waited a little while, not wanting to tip off Logan's enhanced sense of hearing.

When she was sure it was safe, the weather witch broke out into the loudest, most insane laughter she'd let out in a very long time.

---

Pietro was still in a bouncy-bouncy mood when he reached the Institute. He was thankful that Xavier allowed him to run back and forth; if there was one thing he liked about being an X-Geek, it was that the adults didn't assume he was stupid. He knew well enough to avoid people and such on his dashes. Granted, a year ago he wouldn't have found a reason to care, but that big mistake of a soccer game when he and the rest of the 'hood decided to reveal themselves had schooled them all quite well.

"Ahhh, feels great," Pietro rubbed at the little golden trinket tied tightly to his throat. Forge _was_ a genius.

"Just don't talk too fast," Forge told him, "I don't think it can keep up with you past a certain point and it'll kill out."

"Wellthat'snotmuch-"

And silence. Forge had been right, but it was a small price to pay to be able to _talk_ for the time being. He rubbed at his throat a little, remembering it was time for his first Danger Room session. Beast was going to set them all on one other.

Oh, goody.

---

"Hey don't feel bad, dude," Quicksilver said, striking a pose, "_nobody_ can catch me, I'm just good like that. See ya!"

Pietro sped off after that highly infuriating remark, and Kurt ported out not long after, leaving Joseph last to leave the Danger Room.

"I hate him," Joseph shook his head. He _hadn't_ caught Quicksilver. His first real training session wasn't what he expected, that was for sure. Beast had pulled him aside beforehand and asked if he would be willing to use his magnetic gifts to _mimic_ Magneto and give the others a toned down version of their enemy to fight against. It would be good, he said, to give some of the younger mutants a taste of something they'd one day go up against.

Maybe Mr. McCoy didn't know how much his 'relationship,' whatever it was, with Magneto was tormenting him. Joseph didn't like the idea of being 'toned down,' either. Or maybe the furry mutant had thought facing it would be healthy.

It _had_ been healthy; cutting loose and tearing a few things up felt good, and realizing the sheer _power_ of what he had, even without the decades of experience Magneto had in refining it... no wonder Magneto was such an asshole; it was _easy._

But he couldn't catch Quicksilver. Nightcrawler didn't count, you couldn't imprison him without some measure of science, but Quicksilver was just plain annoying.

In any case, Joe was intent on heading to the infirmary and seeing Scott.

And when he got there, Scott was asleep. He knew this because Scott was snoring louder then his father did, and his father was loud enough to go through closed doors and the walls.

Figures. I guess he's just **that** bored...

Sitting on the stool that was already near his bed, Joe reached a hand over and brushed Scott's bangs out of his face. He could wait.

Especially when the alternative was getting his homework done and actually _reading_ Paradise Lost. To think, he'd been happy when they told him he could be in the advanced English class...

---

"How was your first day, Logan?" Xavier smiled.

Logan closed the door behind him. "You waited here _just_ to ask me that, didn't you?"

The professor just grinned at him and took a sip from his mug of coffee. "Perhaps. How did everything go?"

"As well as can be expected," Logan rubbed his temples for a second. "I mean, we're talking about a place filled with... kids, here, Chuck. But the guy's been quiet as near as I can tell. I have no idea if Principle Kelly knows about it or not."

"I see," Xavier nodded. "How are _our_ students handling it?"

"Pretty well, all things considered," Logan said. "But..."

"But?"

With a sigh, Logan went on. "Well, you know how it is. The guy's in a _perfect_ position to pull something. Most of the vice-principle's job is making sure discipline is enforced, some of our brats could give him enough of an excuse to get them alone in his office."

"I'd considered that," Charles admitted. "However, I don't believe he will act during the school day, there are too many people who would notice. He could've fought longer in Idaho, but he left."

Picking up on the professor's train of thought, Logan finished the idea. "He _wants_ to stay secret like we do..."

"My thoughts exactly. But for what purpose, I can't say. And the question begs itself, why be in the open like this in the first place..."

"Hmm. I don't like the idea of having to wait for him to move." For once, Logan actually sounded worried. "If he's as bad as everyone says, people are going to get hurt when he does."

"I agree," Xavier cracked his knuckles, just as frustrated at the situation as Wolverine. "Sinister's tracking program doesn't work unless Apocalypse wears his armor, and I think he knows that it gives him away now. We haven't been able to find out where he stays away from the school, and he covers his 'official' tracks."

Frowning, Logan changed the subject. "That's another thing. I still don't trust _that_ guy either."

"Well, his services may be too good to be true," Charles confessed, "but I've been keeping an eye on his mind. I haven't gone deep enough for him to realize it. He's certainly a dark man, and I won't repeat some of the things he would _like_ to do with his practice, but I'd say he knows not to cross that line here."

To the professor's surprise, Logan smiled. "Took my advice about taking peeks already, eh Chuck?"

"I'd hardly call it 'taking peeks,'" Xavier scoffed. "More like blatant invasion."

They shared a laugh, knowing it was for a good reason anyway.

"Mommy, help, the bullies are talking about me behind my back!" A new voice shrilled. Even Logan hadn't noticed Mr. Sinister enter the main hall and take up a spot leaning against the front door. The scientist was smiling at them, amused that they weren't thinking of the possibility that he'd simply been quiet _entering_ said door. "I'd wondered why I've been getting the odd headache lately... I'm a bit... allergic to telepathy, dear Charles, and if telling you _that_ weakness doesn't make you trust me, I'll just wait until Rogue wakes up."

Pulling an apple from a pocket on his lab coat and taking a bite, Sinister added, "I'm impressed, I didn't think you had spying in you, Prof."

"Chew first, talk later, Bub," Logan said.

"First time for everything," Xavier said, not backing down. He didn't think Sinister was trying to guilt trip him, but by the same token, he wasn't going to _give_ the clown anything like that, either.

Sinister became content with munching on his snack and not taking part in the conversation anymore.

Xavier had one more question for Logan to get off his chest. "What about Joseph?"

Sinister looked at the floor so they wouldn't notice the grin on his face.

"Heh," Wolverine scratched his head, thinking back to the day. "He's like... it's weird, Chuck. He's like Magneto but he's... just not."

"Magneto was shaped by World War II," Xavier said, "Joseph has the... experience... of a normal life to guide him."

Still leaning against the door, Sinister convulsed ever so slightly, holding back a chuckle.

"Yeah, you don't have to tell me, Chuck," Wolverine looked past him and at the wall for a moment, some of his only memories reminding him why he hadn't been angry with Nightcrawler for sparing Magneto, and why he himself didn't leave the terrorist inside Rebirth when it blew. It was interesting, to think that out of everyone he knew: Xavier, Storm, Beast, the kids, he understood Magneto the most. _I gotta tell Chuck what Omaha Beach was like one o'these days, I wonder if Buckethead ever told Deathcamp stories._

Switching his train of thought quickly on the chance Charles would pick it up, he asked, "Any luck putting Cerebro back together?"

"No," Xavier chuckled, "I'm afraid Hank and I pushed several components too far during the diagnostics, the replacement parts should arrive today or tomorrow."

The doorbell rang as Xavier took another sip of coffee. "That could be them now."

As he was currently the closest, Sinister grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, stepping away and turning around. The handle slipped from his hand when he looked at the visitor, causing the glass to swing open all the way. A horrified yelp came from the scientist as he dropped his apple and bolted through another door and slammed it shut behind him, heading deeper into the mansion.

The rather confused police officer that took a step through the open door was no deliveryman.

"Can we help you, Officer?" Xavier said, hoping to end the rather awkward moment.

"Yes, yes you can," the man replied, eyeing the door Sinister had used as his escape route as if he were afraid to ask. "I _think_ my son is around here, though for as much he enjoys my company it wouldn't surprise me if he isn't."

---

Mud.

That was the clearest image at the moment: wet, slimly, dark, mud. Then the rain that was turning the ground into that mud became fairly clear. The ground was slippery, it was raining too much... the sky wasn't _too_ shrouded in clouds, but the rain was more then a simple drizzle.

The mud added to the scene's misery, it was all so depressing. The crowd of people wasn't walking around him; they were trudging. Trudging through the mud wherever the soldiers guided them. It was hard to argue with armed soldiers.

He was trudging too, and so were his parents. _Were_ they his parents? Yes, of course, such a stupid question... but they weren't any happier then _he_ was, that was for sure.

Where were the guards leading them? Why were they in such a packed mess of a line while _other_ people were just doing chores around them? And they all had the star. Work shall set you free, after all...

Why had his father pushed him away? His mother certainly didn't want him to do that, but he'd even made sure the guards hadn't seen. And now the soldier in charge of this group was telling them they'd be sent off to a small camp somewhere else...

Funny, he just _knew_ he'd never see his parents again, as if they were being herded off to... to...

That feeling of dread stayed with Joseph as he woke up, with quite a start. He was out of breath, some of his hair was plastered to his face from sweat, and he just _knew_ that had been some kind of vague _nightmare,_ a horrible one.

"Hey!"

"Scott?" He blinked. Now he remembered, he'd came down to see Scott, found him asleep, and stayed. "I must've nodded off..."

"More like dropped dead, you know how loud you snore?" Scott smiled, waving his arm around.

"You should talk," Joe said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"_And_ you fell asleep on my arm, which is now asleep itself," Scott laughed, giving up on trying to shake the blood back into said limb. "So, what'd I miss at school?"

Joseph thought about it for a second, and decided to be blunt. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Jean... I don't even _know_ what Jean did and I'm not going to try to figure it out, Mr. Sinister beat up a jock, Wolverine is pretending to be a gym teacher to keep an eye on Apocalypse, because Apocalypse is the new Vice-Principle."

"Actually I meant what happened in cl- _Apocalypse is what!_" Scott's reflexes betrayed him and he sat up at the surprise, but the pain it brought didn't phase him. Bending at the waist only jostled the lowest breaks.

"Well, technically," Joseph made quotes with his fingers, "'Henry Gyrich' is the vice-principle."

"That... that _bastard_ is _enforcing discipline_ at school?" Scott was beyond incredulous; he was pissed. The mere idea was absurd, and it didn't help that he hated Apocalypse as it was. "And why are you _dressed _like him?"

"I am not!" Joseph shot back, standing up and looking down at himself. He hadn't taken the coat off, and it suddenly hit him. Black leather overcoat... what else was needed? "God, I _am..._"

Scott smiled, giving Joseph's uniform, as it were, another look. "And like me."

"I am?"

"Yep."

He hadn't seen Scott's uniform yet, but it was true. Joseph's coat buckled at his chest with the same X-shape Scott wore for armor, except it was a light blue. Someone had a sense of humor...

"Somehow I doubt you wear weights for balance while you learn to fly," Joseph told him, pulling one of his sleeves back and showing the heavy blue brace on his forearm. The thought of kicking Scott in the face just to show him the ones on his lower legs was an amusing one, but ultimately not one he followed through with.

"You couldn't fly before?" Scott raised an eyebrow. The thought had never occurred to him, he'd assumed if Magneto could do it...

Joseph sat back down. "I didn't have a clue I _could,_ it's not like school offers a class on magnetism, you know?"

"Yeah," Scott conceded. "I don't suppose you could fly me out the window..."

"Scott, I wear weights for _balance,_ I have a hard enough time keeping a good center of gravity as it is. You might as well jump."

"I'm about to, and there aren't even windows in here anyway... hey," Scott trailed off, rubbing his chin. "Not everyone _needs_ windows..."

"What are you getting at?" Joseph gave him a look.

"I have _got_ to get out of here," Scott announced, a scheming expression on his face. "Think you could bring me some clothes and then find Kurt?"

"You want to _escape?_"

Crossing his neck with a finger, Scott lowered his voice. "Shhhh! Announce to the world, already! And yes, yes I do, I'm sick of doing nothing but lying here just because that idiot got a lucky shot."

"Wait, wait," Joseph shook his head. "Half your ribs are broken and you want to... what, go for a walk?"

"Hey, I can walk," Scott defended. "That's about _all_ I can do, and I'd _like_ to at least walk farther then the bathroom. Besides, I wanted to drag _you_ with me... you know, our first date... that kinda thing?"

Joseph smiled at him. "That's sweet, Scott... getting in trouble for me..."

"Trouble?" Scott scratched his head, his face falling. _I hadn't thought of that, yeah, running out while seriously injured might just do that._ "Yeah, but it's worth it."

The doors slid open, and Scott leaned over to see past Joseph and watch Logan walk in. All things told, Logan wasn't so bad an interruption. It wasn't like he was the type to sneak in and eavesdrop.

"Hey Magnet-boy, yer wanted downstairs, in the kitchen."

Scott and Joseph shared a look, the latter positive that Scott's eyes were as wide with confusion as his own were. "Okay..."

"And leave the uniform." Logan added, walking out.

Joseph unbuckled the coat and folded it over the stool, piling the light-blue braces on top of it. He threw a wink at Scott before turning to leave. "I'll come back."

It was a quick trip to the main hall, down the stairs and into the large dining room. So far he'd had yet to eat with everyone, waiting until after the normal mealtimes and grabbing leftovers at the table in the kitchen itself as a blatant way of avoiding mass stares.

And Joseph almost felt an ulcer develop when he swung the door to the kitchen open and trotted in; the surprise was far too much. Logan could've _warned_ him.

Leaning on the far counter, not even out of his own uniform, was his father.

"Dad! Hi?"

"You still _remember_ who I am, well, there's that, at least," his father let out an untimely yawn, most likely the result of too much work and too little sleep.

Joseph rubbed at his eyes, a sudden pain forming behind them. "Very funny Dad. Very funny."

"Funny like not even _calling_ all week?" The elder Kincaid crossed his arms. "I've been fighting back the little voice that tells me half the reason you're here is to avoid me."

"Dad, really," the mutant sighed. "Yes, yes, that's it exactly. I raised my grades just enough for Professor Xavier to invite me here because your presence is toxic. And I notice it's taken _you_ a week, too!" _Oh yeah, turned into a freak in about three different ways to get here too._

"And if you'd been home you'd have noticed I've been pulling double shifts since I got back..." Officer Kincaid trailed off, realizing he'd just provided more ammunition for his son.

"Well, there, see, what's it matter anyway," Joseph shrugged, "you're arresting more people, I'm alone less. Everyone's happy. But in purple, I am stunning."

"Well what the Hell do you _want_ me to do, Joe? Working less now that you're living elsewhere sort of defeats the purpose, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, guess it does," Joseph agreed, deciding to be noncommittal for the moment. He was glad when his father changed the subject.

"How's school?"

"Well, the popular kids actually _like_ being on camera here, easier to get good pictures," Joseph answered, one side of his lips curving into a grin as he remembered the scene Mr. Sinister had caused. "I have some _great _ones from today."

Robert became serious for a moment. "Oh, speaking of school, did you hear anything about some weirdo beating up a football player this afternoon?"

"Not a thing," Joseph lied. Realizing he'd answered too fast to be trustworthy, he added, "I mean, gossip would be on the other side of the school in ten minutes, you just don't miss things like that."

"Right. Well, I've still got another shift _tonight,_" Robert answered, tugging his uniform straight. "I gotta get going. Why don't you drop by on the weekends?"

It may have been a question, but Joseph had long since noticed that when cops ask questions, it's not a bad idea to give them what they want. Especially when they double as parents.

"Oh, what, and give up a life in luxury," Joseph gestured around. If the sarcasm in his voice was any indication, however, he had agreed. "Oh, can I borrow twenty bucks?"

Completely caught off guard, Robert gave a simple answer. "What the hell _for?_"

"Oh, you know," his son replied, eyes shifting ever so slightly. "Stuff. Could use another memory cartridge for my camera."

"Right," Robert didn't trust him for a second; kids were masters at blowing money, after all.

"Awww, c'mon Dad," Joseph pleaded, "I haven't asked for anything in months. Well, nothing big..."

"Alright, alright," Robert conceded. He forked the cash over, deciding he'd rather pay for the convenience of avoiding an argument.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." Robert left, completely aware of the fact that his son's _real_ reason for suddenly opening the 'fridge was to have some kind of excuse not to walk him out. But all things considered, it hadn't been the worst conversation they'd ever had.

"By the way, you might want to tell someone there's," Robert turned, but Joseph had already made his escape. Sighing, he finished the thought anyway. "Someone hiding in the bushes past the gate..."

---

Scott had almost fallen asleep when a pile of clothes dropped into his lap. "Took you long enough," he smiled.

"Don't. Ask." Joseph glared at him, shutting the curtain so Scott could have privacy.

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Kurt said, rubbing his head. "Man, I'll be detailing the Blackbird until I'm eighteen for _this_ one. _How_ did you get me to agree to this again?"

"I said I'd pay you," Joseph deadpanned.

Kurt's eyes lit up. "Ohhhh yeah."

"Fine, fine," Joseph pouted, reached for his wallet, and gave Kurt the twenty his father had 'loaned' him not five minutes ago.

Kurt flashed a smile, pocketed the dough and switched on his hologram as Scott emerged, now fully clothed and looking like he was in perfect health.

"Scott, are you _sure_ you're alright?" Kurt asked, as if determined to confirm that this really _was_ as stupid an idea as it seemed.

"Yes, Kurt, I'm sure. As long as I don't bend over really fast or raise my arms above my waist."

"Alright then," Kurt said, "where to?"

After a pause, Scott scratched his head. "You know, that's a good question."

"You didn't think of anything?" Joseph chuckled.

"No, no I didn't. I've been too busy... uh... laying here."

"Kurt, movie theatre down town?" Joseph shrugged.

"Mile and a half, no problem. Grab hologram, guys!" Kurt cracked his knuckles.

"Why are you so _happy_ today, man?" Scott raised an eyebrow, putting a hand to Kurt's shoulder.

  
Joseph did the same. "He's seeing Amanda after he drops us off."

"That explains it," Scott smiled.

"Aw, shuddup," Kurt blushed, and teleported them away. Had Scott been one-hundred-percent, he thought he would've 'ported them both into a tree somewhere, but he settled for letting his imagination do that. A random alley close to the chosen destination was fine, and he _bamfed_ away after delivering his passengers.

"Does he _know_ about us?" Joseph wondered, having noticed Kurt's complete lack of real objection to the whole thing.

"Well, he knows about _me,_" Scott coughed when they walked through the sulfur from Kurt's 'port. "He'd have to be blind not to put two and two together _now._"

"We're not going to have to worry about hiding pretty soon, are we," Joseph blinked. "Everyone's gonna just walk in on us one at a time."

Carefully avoiding a collision with a street lamp as they made their way down the sidewalk, Scott answered, "That's a frightening thought. And then Pietro would be our personal photographer."

"What, I'm not good enough," Joseph resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs. "I can set a camera timer with the best of them, I'll tell you that!"

They set out walking, completely oblivious that someone was lying in wait further down the street, carefully peering out from behind a doorway to see how close they were.

Needless to say, Scott was more then a little shocked when Lance Alvers stepped out of the shadows and cut him off. "Summers."

"What do you want, Alvers?" Scott shot back, easily getting angry with him just for getting in the way.

"What the _hell_ did you do to him?" Lance almost shouted. He looked like he was about to burst a few blood vessels just from being angry.

Scott tilted his head, eyes blinking behind his shades. "_What_ are you talking about?"

Getting right into his rival's face, Lance answered, "_Quicksilver,_ you sunnuvabitch! I _saw_ him today, he can't even _talk!_ _What did you do to him?_"

Scott's mouth hung open. He wasn't sure what was more absurd; the thought that he or _anyone_ at the Institute would abuse someone like that, especially one of their own, or the stupidity Lance was broadcasting by harassing him on the street for it. Well, it was questionable if anyone considered Pietro 'one of their own' yet, or if they ever would, but the point still made sense as far as he was concerned.

At Scott's silence, Lance grabbed him by the shirt, fully intent on showing him a very unsophisticated demonstration of vulgar vocabulary.

Unfortunately, Lance's fist hit Scott dead center in the process of grabbing him, and it was _not_ a pleasant experience for the latter.

"GETOFF!" Scott yelled, shoving Lance back. Pain shot through his chest as fresh as when Apocalypse had taken him down, it left him clenching his teeth and breathing hard. Even Lance was surprised by the sheer force in his reaction.

And the rock tumbler was even _more_ surprised when the grate beneath his feet suddenly split in two and dumped him into the drainage ditch. Joseph was surprised too, a little surprised that Lance had managed to bang his head on the way down and knock himself out.

Scott looked at him for a fairly long moment, and he couldn't help but laugh, albeit briefly, as it just aggravated his ribs more.. "You didn't."

"Hey, I just saw some faulty construction give way," the other smiled. Both of them peered down at the stricken Lance. "That's what he gets for ignoring me. You know, he's gonna be _mighty_ pissed when he wakes up."

"Yeah, let's make ourselves scarce before he brings a building down on us," Scott added.

They walked off.

~~~

"Ask DNA" is the opening theme to Cowboy Bebop: Knockin' on Heaven's Door.

Yes, I hate Duncan. And yes, I hate Paradise Lost myself, I make absolutely no claims that there is no bias in this blatant venting. :)

Oy, I'm succumbing to the overcoat cliché... note to self, overcoats are not needed by every single new character. Seriously, there's actually plot for why Joseph has one, kind of. Sort of. I'm not even sure why I'm commenting on this. Actually, it's probably because I wear one myself and I'm afraid everyone's going to think I'm writing veiled self-insertions everywhere, aside from somehow just _knowing_ my fashion habits. Of course, now that I just _said_ that... why yes, I need mental help.

The ref list:

-Kurt and Amanda are playing "Duel Monsters" in study hall. Catch an ep of Yu-Gi-Oh or find the manga somewhere to see more. Or for that matter, buy a deck...

-Joseph's father is a reference to the Earth: Final Conflict character, Major Liam Kincaid. Major Kincaid is played by _Robert_ Leeshock.

-On the same subject, the triple-helix DNA thing also comes from Earth: Final Conflict. Major Kincaid is the character to posses it, in fact.

-Joseph's line about being stunning in purple is from Babylon 5. Don't ask.

-Pietro's "note" to Duncan, is, of course, the classic line from Planet of the Apes.

-Star Trek: The Next Generation fans, note Robert pulling the "Picard Maneuver." Not the one about accelerating to warp 9, the uniform-tug thing. THAT Picard Manuver. Yeah, I'm serious, stop laughing.


End file.
